We never use it anymore, so the sound alone made my chest tighten.
“Mrs. Hawthorne?” a man said carefully. “This is the principal from your daughter’s school. I’m sorry to disturb you, but we have a girl here asking to call her mother. She gave us your name.”
“You have the wrong person,” I said automatically. “My daughter is deceased.”
There was a pause.
“She says her name is Grace,” he continued. “And she looks… very similar to the photo we still have in our system.”
My heart started pounding so hard it hurt.
“That’s not possible.”
“She’s very upset. Please—just speak to her.”
I almost refused.
Then I heard movement on the other end.
And a voice.
Small. Shaking.
“Mommy? Mommy, please come get me.”
The phone slipped from my hand.
It wasn’t similar.
It was her.
Neil walked in just then, holding his coffee. He saw my face, the phone on the floor.
“What happened?”
“It’s Grace,” I whispered. “She’s at the school.”
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