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Claire stood in front of a red brick house on North Mallard Lane, the one that her driver’s license said was hers, trying to find the courage to go inside. She walked the length of the front yard again, noting how the small silver maple tree supplied shade for one of the two outer bedrooms while at the same time providing a focal point for the landscaping that surrounded it. It was a beautiful house, but it was what lay inside that terrified her.