I reached the foyer and looked through the narrow glass pane beside the door.

Standing on the porch under the dripping eaves was a tall man in a dark coat.

I recognized him immediately from the old newspaper clippings.

It was Daniel Voss.

Beside him stood a woman, her face shielded by a deep green hood.

Water dripped from her coat onto the wooden porch boards.

My hand shook as I reached for the brass deadbolt.

“Don’t do it,” Claire called out from the top of the stairs, her voice cracking with panic.

I ignored her and turned the lock.

I pulled the heavy wooden door open, letting in a gust of cold, wet air.

Daniel Voss stepped forward, his dark eyes locking onto mine.

“We’re here for the rest of the letter,” he said.

The woman in the green hood slowly reached up and pulled it back, revealing her face.

Her eyes were the exact same shade of green as Megan’s.

She stepped over the threshold into the warmth of the hallway.

“And I am here for my daughter,” she said.