“Chloe, what is it? Tell me, honey,” I whispered, trying to keep my voice steady, even though an inexplicable unease was constricting my chest.

She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she pointed. “Look, Grandma,” her voice was barely a thread, trembling, as if speaking louder might summon something terrible.

I crouched down and squinted to look through the gap. At first, I only saw the dirty floor and blurred shadows, but then a pair of bright red high-heeled shoes appeared, like two lit-up cherries in the gray. They moved slowly, step by step, firm and deliberate. The sound of the heels, clock, clock, echoed on the floor, each strike like a hammer in my chest.