"Remember this place?" The girl's voice was faint, carried on a gust of wind before vanishing back into it.
"This river?" Timothy Sterling jolted, staring at the girl before him in disbelief. "You—"
Tears welled in the girl's eyes. "Remember now?"
Timothy Sterling was utterly stunned. How could he not know this river? Twelve years ago, his eldest daughter, Joyce Sterling, had drowned here after falling from that very bridge in the distance.
"Joyce... Impossible! That's impossible! Joyce is dead! She's been dead for twelve years!" Timothy Sterling denied it robotically, but his heart was already in turmoil.
