Jacob was alive? Impossible. It had to be. Either I was dreaming or Mrs. Stanley was lying. And yet...and yet... "Why should we believe you?" George asked her. "You've lied so many times already. How do we know this is not one more?" "It may be." Mrs. Stanley's accent seemed thicker and her manner was of someone who no longer cared what anyone thought. I felt a little sorry for her. I didn't understand why she could love someone like Price, but I understood deep, soul-wrenching love, and that was enough for me to forgive her role. "But you will not know for sure until you find his body." "We have to trust her," Celia muttered. "We cannot risk doing nothing." She looked to me. Everyone did. I clutched Jacob's shirt, even as he faded in and out. I didn't look up at his face. Could not. If I moved, if I spoke even in a whisper, I might shatter this dream and wake up into a nightmare instead. It was Jacob who roused me. "Emily," he said urgently. "Emily, ask her where my body is. Ask her how she knows this.
