Chapter 10 - The Voice from the Past
The phone pressed against Arthur’s ear felt as heavy as lead, the screen glowing with a live, high-definition video feed that showed an empty, dimly lit hallway on the second floor of his own home. The piercing shriek of the smoke detectors echoed from inside the house, blending with the frantic shouts of the police officers who were now rushing toward the back patio doors.
"Arthur?" a voice whispered through the phone speaker.
It wasn't a recording. It was real, breathing, and unmistakably the voice of Sarah—his wife, who had supposedly perished in the ashes of her childhood home a decade ago.
Arthur’s knees buckled slightly, the world spinning around him in a dizzying blur of sunlight and rising smoke. "Sarah? Where are you? How is this—"
"Don't go up the stairs, Arthur," Sarah’s voice interrupted, trembling with a mixture of fear and suppressed rage. "They want you to find the nursery. They want you to burn with the rest of the evidence."
Across the lawn, the scarred man in the blue suit laughed softly, sliding into the driver’s seat of Clara’s sedan before slamming the door shut and peeling out of the driveway in a cloud of dust and shredded rubber.
"Mr. Dalton! Step away from the perimeter!" the lead officer shouted, grabbing Arthur’s arm to pull him back toward the house as thick black smoke began billowing from the second-story windows of the nursery. "The second floor is fully compromised! We have to evacuate the property right now!"
"No! My wife is on the phone! She's inside!" Arthur yelled back, shaking off the officer's grip with manic strength.
"Sir, your wife has been dead for ten years! Get a grip on yourself!" Miller yelled, rushing out onto the patio while holding Lily tightly by the hand to keep the young girl away from the burning wreckage.
Lily pointed up at the second-story window, her dark eyes wide with a strange, unnatural calmness. " Mommy is just playing hide and seek, Daddy. Just like Thomas taught us."
Arthur looked down at his daughter, a cold dread washing over him. Lily wasn't reacting like a normal child experiencing a fire; she was reciting phrases, matching the cadence of someone who had spent months rehearsing a play.
"Lily... who taught you that phrase?" Arthur asked, his voice dropping to a gravelly whisper.
Before Lily could answer, the phone speaker hissed with static, and a loud, distorted thud echoed from the second-floor hallway, followed by the sound of heavy footsteps dragging across the hardwood floor directly above their heads.
Then, Sarah’s voice came through the phone one last time, clear and chillingly close.
"Look behind you, Arthur."
Arthur slowly turned around, lowering the phone from his ear as a shadow fell across the sunlit patio. Standing in the open doorway of the kitchen, holding a fresh pair of red scissors, was Martha.
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"The audit is finished, Mr. Dalton," Martha said smoothly, her grey bun coming loose as she took a slow step toward Lily. "Now it's time to sign the final release."
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