She blinks in confusion. “Boy? What boy?”
“I saw him through my office window playing out on the back lawn, but when I went outside to find him, he was gone. And the security feed was all static when I reviewed it, as if it had been erased. Or hadn’t recorded at all.” My throat arid as a desert, I swallow. “Because he wasn’t really there.”
Fiona is wearing such an odd expression, it makes me nervous.
She asks, “What did this little boy look like?”
“Blond. Maybe five years old. He was wearing a red rain slicker and little yellow boots. And he seemed happy, running around and laughing.” I shake my head in disbelief. “I thought he got lost and wandered into my backyard.”
Fiona looks down at the table. She spreads her hands flat over the top. She appears to be calculating something. “What
