PART 1: THE WHISPER FROM THE CASKET

“Please don’t close it… I’m still here.”

Eleanor Vance froze in the silent living room of her son’s home outside Chicago.

It was nearly eleven at night. A small white casket stood in the centre of the room, surrounded by lilies, candles and sympathy cards. Her six-year-old granddaughter, Chloe, had supposedly passed away after a sudden illness. The funeral was scheduled for the following morning.