Vera

The nursery was still swinging on its hinges when she burst inside. The curtains were breathing in and out with the morning wind, and the bed was wrong—too flat, too cold.

Vera’s heart went weightless. For an endless second she waited to hear a sleepy little voice, a giggle, anything that would make this a mistake.

Nothing.

“Nessa?” She searched under the blanket, the wardrobe, the small reading nook by the window. Her voice cracked the quiet like glass.

Footsteps thundered down ...