Prologue: The Cabinet

Twenty years ago—

When I played hide-and-seek with my daughter, I made a choice I can never take back. I locked the cabinet where she was hiding, turning that cold metal key in my shaking hands. Sweat prickled my palms despite the chill in the air. Even then, I told myself it was for the best, but my hands shook so bad I almost dropped the key. God forgive me, I thought. Please, just let her forgive me. That moment carved itself into my memory, sharper than any scar.

Afterwards, I moved my wife and son to a new home before dawn. The moving truck rumbled like a threat in the quiet neighborhood. Diane kept glancing over her shoulder, clutching our boy close while I stared at the road ahead, jaw set, pretending not to notice the ghost of our old life in the rearview mirror.

Present day—

Twenty years later, I returned to my old house, planning to bury my daughter's remains. The town had changed, but the house was the same—peeling paint, overgrown lawn, the faint outline of my kids’ chalk drawings still visible on the driveway. A faded Buckeyes bumper sticker still clung to the garage door, half-peeled by twenty Midwest winters. My heart hammered with every step as I walked up the path, clutching the shovel with white-knuckled hands.

Just as I reached the cabinet, I heard a little girl's voice.

"Daddy, are you finally going to find me?"

Her voice cut through the years like a knife—light, familiar, and impossibly close. The blood drained from my face as the air grew colder, thick with something unspeakable. My heart thundered in my chest, and I stood frozen in the dark. And in the dark, I realized—she’d never stopped waiting for me.