Chapter 5 - The Date on the Tombstone
The attic air suddenly felt thick and suffocating, as if all the oxygen had been sucked out through the floorboards. Sarah clutched the yellowed newspaper clipping in both hands, her eyes scanning the faded columns of text while her breath came in short, ragged gasps.
"Read the date again," Sarah whispered, her voice trembling so badly the paper fluttered in her grip. "David, read the exact date of the article."
David bent down to retrieve his rolling flashlight, sweeping the beam back onto the page. "October twelfth, 1994. That's... that's exactly thirty years ago today."
"And look at the child's name," Sarah continued, her finger tracing the smudged print beneath the photograph. "Clara Evelyn Miller. Age six. Daughter of Thomas and Eleanor Miller."
Lily stood quietly a few feet away, holding her white stuffed bunny against her teal sweater, watching her parents with solemn, unblinking blue eyes.
"Mommy," Lily said softly, pointing a small finger toward the darkest corner of the attic near the chimney. "She's standing right there."
Both adults whipped their heads around, the flashlight beam slashing frantically across the dusty rafters and storage boxes. Nothing was there except an old rocking chair moving with a slow, rhythmic creak, back and forth, as if an invisible occupant had just stood up from the seat.
David cursed under his breath, grabbing the leather ledger from the trunk and flipping frantically through the handwritten pages. "My grandfather owned this land before the county expanded the reservoir. Look at the property deeds. The house across the water... it wasn't just a random house. It was part of this original homestead before the division."
"Why did the child drown, David?" Sarah demanded, her voice rising with desperate urgency. "What does the rest of the article say?"
David held the flashlight closer to the paper, reading the fine print aloud. "The search for young Clara Miller was called off after three days of relentless rain and rising floodwaters. Authorities concluded the child wandered out onto the unstable dock during the storm and slipped beneath the surface. Her body was never recovered from the depths of the old foundation."
Sarah swallowed hard, a cold knot forming in her stomach. "And her toys? Did they ever find her things?"
"Family members reported that the child's favorite white stuffed rabbit vanished with her into the lake," David read, his voice faltering as the words sank in. He looked up slowly, staring at the soggy toy sitting downstairs on their kitchen counter.
Before either of them could speak, a sharp, heavy thud echoed from directly beneath their feet—coming from the master bedroom on the second floor. It sounded like someone dropping a heavy piece of furniture onto the hardwood floor.
Lily clutched her stuffed bunny tighter, her head tilting slightly as she listened to the sounds echoing from below.
"She wants to play hide-and-seek," Lily whispered innocently. "She said it's my turn to find her."
David grabbed a heavy iron fireplace poker leaning against the brick chimney, his knuckles turning white around the handle.
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"Stay behind me," David ordered, stepping toward the attic stairs with his jaw clenched in grim determination.
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