“No,” Eleanor whispered, her eyes widening in terror. “Don’t look there.”

She looked at me, but her gaze went right through me.

“The fire is coming,” she whispered.

Nathan walked into the kitchen just then, stopping dead in his tracks.

He looked at his mother, then at me.

I looked back at him, the silence in the room suddenly heavy with secrets.

My eyes drifted toward the hallway, where the door to Eleanor’s guest room stood slightly ajar.

Nathan took two steps forward, his boots clicking on the hardwood.

He placed a hand on Eleanor’s trembling shoulder.

“Mom, it’s okay,” he said, his voice flat and calm.

“There is no fire.”

Eleanor didn’t look at him.

She kept her eyes locked on me, her breath coming in short, wet gasps.

“He took them,” she whispered, her fingers tearing at the hem of her cardigan.

“He took the keys so I couldn’t get out.”

Lily dropped her fork.

It clattered against her plate, leaving a smear of yellow yolk on the ceramic.

“Daddy?” Lily asked, her voice small and trembling.

“Why is Nanna scared?”