Sunlight streaming across her face woke Nicola the next morning. She rolled over onto her side and squinted at the clock. It was almost seven in the morning.
“Iris isn’t here… That’s strange…” she whispered.
The little girl always woke Nicola up at six-thirty…
Something was definitely wrong here.
Frowning, Nicola threw back the covers and reached for her robe. She slid her arms into the sleeves and got to her feet. Nicola belted the robe as she crossed the bedroom.
She opened the door and saw the hall swaddled in an eerie stillness. Not even Alma was there, dusting or rearranging something…
“Nik…”
A small, scratchy voice called out in that strange calmness. Then Nicola heard the little girl coughing and hurried across the hall.
“Iris?”
She entered Iris’s bedroom and saw the little
