There was a pause on the line.
“She says her name is ‘Grace,'” Frank continued. “And she looks remarkably similar to the photo we still have in our student database.”
My heart started pounding so hard it hurt.
“My daughter is deceased.”
“That’s impossible.”
“She’s very upset. Please, just speak to her.”
Then I heard a small, trembling voice. “Mommy? Mommy, please come get me?”
The phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor. It was her voice.
Neil walked into the kitchen holding his coffee mug. He froze when he saw my face and the phone on the tile.
“What happened? What’s wrong?”
“That’s impossible.”
“It’s Grace,” I whispered. “She’s at her old school.”
Instead of telling me I was imagining things, he went pale. Truly pale.
He picked up the phone and hung up quickly.
“It’s a scam. AI voice cloning. People can fake anything now. Don’t go there.”
“But whoever it was knew her name. The person on the phone sounded like her, Neil.”
“It’s a scam. AI voice cloning.”
“Obituaries are public. Social media exists. Anyone could pull that information.”
When I grabbed my keys from the hook by the door, Neil stepped in front of me.
“Babe, you can’t go,” he said, panic flashing across his face. “Please.”
“Please what, Neil? My hands were shaking, but my voice wasn’t. “If she’s dead, why are you afraid of a ghost unless she isn’t one?”
“Don’t do this,” he said quietly. “You won’t like what you find.”
“Babe, you can’t go.”
I didn’t answer. I just pushed past him and headed to the car.
