She ended up in a sleepy town she’d never heard of before. Her car was loaded with hastily packed boxes, a crooked floor lamp, and a mattress strapped down with twine. The two-story house she bought had chipped shutters and a sagging porch, but it spoke of peace.
On move-in day, Lisa had stumbled up the attic stairs with a heavy box of kitchenware. Her foot clipped the edge of another box already there, forgotten and dusty. Something inside it shifted, causing her to freeze. A faint sound followed—a whimper.