Page 42 of In Her Memory

Could it really be that simple? That her father, from beyond the grave, had succeeded where she had failed?

Jenna glanced at the clock again: 4:23 a.m. She had hours before she needed to get back to work, but sleep seemed impossible. Still, she knew she should try. The morning would bring its own challenges, and she would have to be sharp.

She reached over and switched off the lamp, plunging the room back into darkness. But as she closed her eyes, she couldn’t stop seeing the image of that single black grape, perfect and gleaming. She couldn’t shake off Pete Shannon’s warning about doors that couldn’t be closed again.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Emma clutched at the threadbare blanket she’d found in a closet, her mind caught in a tangle of dreams.

“Piper,” a voice whispered. “Piper. Wake up.”

The familiar voice tugged her from the depths of troubled sleep. Her eyelids fluttered, then flew open—and there he was. A face she knew better than her own, yet hadn’t seen in twenty years. She’d been far away when he had died.

“Dad!”

“Piper,” he replied.

Greg Graves smiled down at her, his form translucent at the edges but his eyes as warm as she remembered.

She pushed herself up on her elbows. The thin mattress sank beneath her weight, springs protesting. Dust particles dancing in the shafts of early sunlight passed through her father’s form as he sat on the edge of the mattress. She couldn’t feel his weight—there was none—but his presence was strong.

“Is it really you?” she whispered.

“It’s me, sweetheart.” He reached toward her face, and though he couldn’t truly touch her skin, Piper felt a whisper of warmth. “I’ve been watching over you.”

A rush of memories flooded back—not the fragmented, confused images that had plagued her for years, but crystal-clear recollections of her childhood home, her mother’s garden, Jenna’s laugh, her father teaching her to fish in a nearby creek.

“Piper,” she whispered, “that’s my real name, isn’t it?”

A movement at the foot of the bed caught her attention. The air shimmered and condensed, forming the familiar silhouette of Loyalynne. The doll-woman’s painted features twisted in an expression of displeasure, her china-blue eyes hard and unyielding.

“Don’t listen to this stranger,” Loyalynne said, her voice like glass bells ringing. “Your name is Emma Kirby. You know this. We discussed it last night.”

Piper glanced between her father and the doll-woman, confusion clouding her thoughts. “I—”

“She’s not real, Piper,” her father said gently. “Look at her closely.”

“I’m more real than this...” Loyalynne spat, gesturing dismissively at Dad. “He’s just a figment of your imagination, Emma. You created him because you’re afraid of being alone.”

“That’s not true,” Piper said, but doubt made her voice waver.

“Isn’t it?” Loyalynne stepped closer. “You were Emma for twenty years. And now, suddenly, a ‘ghost’ appears to tell you differently?”

Dad’s expression remained calm, his eyes fixed on Piper. “Ask yourself who benefits from keeping you confused about who you are. Ask yourself why she appeared to you only recently, even though you’ve heard your voices for years.”

Piper forced herself to stare directly at Loyalynne, to see past the doll-like appearance that had seemed so real, so comforting in its strange way. As she did, cracks appeared in the illusion—literally, hairline fractures running across the porcelain face, the painted lips, the perfect hands.

“She’s not an independent entity,” her father continued. “She’s a phantom—an echo from another person’s tortured memories. You picked up on it and made it your own.”

“Lies,” Loyalynne hissed, but her voice had changed, carrying an underlying strain that hadn’t been there before. “Don’t listen to him, Emma. We need to keep moving. We need to get farther away from Trentville.”

As Dad explained, his voice was steady and clear. “Your mind reached out to a troubled woman who believed that a doll named Loyalynne was her protector, her friend—the only one who understood her pain.”

Piper’s mind flashed to conversations with Jenna, fragments about that case her sister had shared.

“Stop it!” Loyalynne shrieked, the sound inhuman now, a discordant noise that made Piper flinch. “He’s trying to take me away from you!”

Piper pressed her hands to her temples, the conflicting narratives battling for dominance in her mind. “Why would I do that? Why would I create... you?”