I froze for a second because the voice genuinely sounded like my dad’s. Same rough smoker cough at the end of sentences and everything. I even answered “Dad?” before my brain caught up with me.
Then whoever was downstairs stopped moving completely.
The house was dead quiet except for the old refrigerator humming in the garage. I grabbed my phone and walked toward the basement door, trying to convince myself it was probably just some guy outside messing with me through the window or something.
But when I opened the basement door, the light was already on.
I know for a fact I hadn’t turned it on.
There was nobody standing there, but one of my grandmother’s old folding chairs was pulled out into the middle of the room facing the stairs like somebody had been sitting there waiting for me.
And sitting on the chair was another bottle.
This one had my name on it.
