MY EX-WIFE CAME TO SEE OUR SON. SHE ENDED UP STAYING THE NIGHT. I LET HER SLEEP ON THE COUCH. AFTER MIDNIGHT, I HEARD SOMETHING I WASN’T SUPPOSED TO HEAR.

I woke up at 12:40 AM, the familiar ache of being a light sleeper kicking in. It wasn’t unusual for me. I had been a parent long enough to be hypervigilant, always listening for a cry, always waiting for something to go wrong.

But this time, I wasn’t hearing the usual silence of the house. I heard something else — something faint, something soft, but unmistakable.

Footsteps.

I lay perfectly still, listening. The sound was coming from the living room. Diane had left the light on in the kitchen, and I could see the glow from the crack under my door. The house was quiet otherwise. I strained to hear.

The footsteps stopped, and then I heard it. A voice.

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