Keeley and her dad spent the rest of the day looking through old photo albums and watching home videos after returning from the cemetery. It was rough. Hearing their voices on film caused her to break down crying again.

When had they last watched the home videos? Her dad had transferred them from cassette tapes to DVDs years ago, but she couldn't remember when they'd viewed them. The videos were far more bittersweet than the photographs.

When Kaleb was a baby, he couldn't say Keeley's name. Until he was about five, he called her "Kiwi." Her parents found it hilarious, but she was indignant about being called after a fruit she disliked. Sometimes, he called her that just to annoy her when he got older.

If he were still alive, she was willing to bet he would still call her "Kiwi" and gently pull her hair while grinning, just as he used to. What would his voice have sounded like as a twenty-three-year-old? Kaleb didn't even live long enough for his voice to begin changing.

Her mother's voice would have sounded the same. Robert's voice on film was identical to his current voice. But hearing herself so much younger and happier was a strange experience for Keeley.

There was considerable footage of the Hall children playing together. Kaleb could do many things that regular kids did, but he spent far more time in the hospital for mucus-thinning treatments than any child should. He also endured numerous lung infections throughout his ten years of life.

One particular video deeply affected her. It was from when they were nine and seven. Unaware they were being filmed, Keeley was teaching Kaleb how to pop a wheelie on his bike.

Monica approached her husband, a frown on her face. "Shouldn't you stop them before they hurt themselves?"

"It's a valuable learning experience! If we prevent them from trying new things because they might get hurt, they'll never push their boundaries."

Monica simply shook her head and smiled indulgently as he continued filming. Sure enough, Kaleb fell and scraped his elbow, necessitating an immediate pause to disinfect the wound.

Keeley began crying because he was hurt and she worried he'd have to go to the hospital again. Her mother reassured her it was just a scrape and would be fine, while Robert turned off the camera to help.

Kaleb had been her favorite person in the world, but she worried about him constantly. If she even had a cold, she wasn't allowed near him until she was no longer contagious. The first time she got him sick, resulting in hospitalization, was when she was in kindergarten and half her class had colds.

What was a normal cold for her turned into bronchitis for her brother. She cried for days, fearing he would die. Afterward, at the slightest sneeze, she immediately used hand sanitizer and kept her distance.

This kept Kaleb at a distance because he wanted to play with his sister. He would sneak into her room and sleep with her at night because they weren't allowed near each other during the day.

After he caught pneumonia from doing this while Keeley had a cold, Monica devised a compromise. If Keeley wore a mask and gloves, she could play board games with Kaleb when she was sick.

He thought she looked like a mad scientist and teased her, though he was glad to be able to play. She would roll her eyes and retort that at least mad scientists were smart. Then he'd call her a nerd and grin, showing his two missing front teeth.

Those were much simpler times.

"I wish they were still here," Keeley said quietly after the home videos ended. Her father sighed heavily. "I know, honeybun. I do too."

All that remained were memories and bones buried in Brooklyn Cemetery.

Monica didn't live to see her daughter graduate from high school or college. She wouldn't see her get a PhD. Kaleb never even got all his permanent teeth. He had so much life ahead of him, cut short by a horrible, selfish person seeking drugs.

The judge sentenced the mugger to life imprisonment for killing two people. The jury was particularly moved by Keeley's heartbreaking sobs in the courtroom. She hadn't been called to testify, but she insisted on being there with her father, who had. She didn't want him to be alone.

That man deserved his punishment, but it didn't bring her mother or brother back. Aaron likely felt the same way. He was only able to convict Lacy, but he did ruin Alistair's company, and Alistair died from the stress.

More than once in her two lifetimes, Keeley had wished worse upon her family's killer. Aaron must feel the same way, or he wouldn't still be pursuing those who harmed her.

She couldn't imagine his willpower. In this life, he had to see those people regularly without being able to act, lacking evidence of crimes from her previous life. If Keeley had ever encountered that mugger, she probably wouldn't have been able to restrain herself from attacking him.

Aaron kept intruding into her thoughts today. Assuming he hadn't mourned her death for so long, she'd never considered these things before.

He probably did the same things she and her father did on birthdays, anniversaries, holidays, and other significant occasions when the absence of loved ones is keenly felt. She was oddly tempted to ask him and compare experiences, though discussing how he handled her death would be extremely strange.