Page 175 of Trust No One

Molly shrugged. Not a no, which I counted as a yes.

“Okay. I might set up another meeting.”

I parked at the top of the driveway at the base of the front stairs. I grabbed my purse, set the pizza box on top of the car, and helped Molly down.

After we’d left the social worker’s office, we’d shopped for dresses for Molly for the funeral. Black was hard to find for little girls, and I was glad—there’d been enough darkness as it was. Molly had lobbied for bright pink, but we’d settled on a light blue with white trim. White dress shoes. A purse with a bow. Small comforts.

Balancing the pizza box in one hand, I pushed open the heavy front door and let Molly enter first.

“Hello!” Molly said. “Ghosts! Mommy! Daddy!”

The silence that followed was heavy. Too heavy. No ghost appeared, at least not one I could see.

As we walked to the kitchen, Molly talked about ghosts while I exchanged texts with the funeral director. They’d verified that Maria’s and Gabe’s bodies had been transferred to the funeral home. The joint service would be next Tuesday.

Molly moved down the center hallway toward the kitchen.

I set the pizza box on the kitchen counter. “Wash your hands.”

She washed her hands and rushed back to the table.

“We should be careful what we say,” Molly said.

“Why?” I poured juice into a glass.

She nodded and bit into a slice. “They can hear us.”

I grabbed a slice. Hunger hit me as I raised the pizza to my lips. “Really?” Ghosts were now a part of the healing process.

“Yep.”

“Because they are here?”

She nodded. “They didn’t want to leave me.”

“I can understand that.” I sat beside her. “What would you say to them if you could?”

“I don’t know.”

“I’d tell them I loved them very much. I’d tell them they are welcome to stay here for as long as they want to stay.”

“They will.”

A ripple of unease crawled across my shoulders, but I let the conversation unfold. “Where do you think they are?”

“Upstairs. Maybe in the attic.”

“How about we start in your room?” I tugged melted cheese from my slice.

“Closets. Under the bed.”

I nodded. “Behind curtains.”

“Maybe.”

Through the back windows, the afternoon sun beamed on the mountains. “We could wait until morning,” I suggested.

“I saw Mommy last night,” she said.