I checked on Mandy three times that night, and each time she was sleeping peacefully. Then, just before dawn, I thought I heard voices coming from the hallway between Mandy’s room and ours. I grabbed my robe and went to have a look. There was no one in the hall, so I decided to check on my daughter again. Mandy was still sleeping, and with her were Andy, and Alice. Where had she found them, and where was her favorite, Abby Ann? I opened the door to leave, and that’s when I noticed the molding around the door had been damaged.
I went back to my room (s) to think. I knew what I had to do, but in what order? Should I go to the tower to see my Uncle? Should I see exactly what is inside the wrought-iron fence? I thought about the damaged door casing in Mandy’s room. Was Aunt Bea responsibe?
I was mulling all this over when I noticed something on the floor just inside the door. It was a photo album. I opened it, and on the first page was Abby Ann, and in beautiful handwriting, someone had written her story.