TURNS OUT, I DON’T need the address.
The Davis house sticks out like a sore thumb among the lovingly maintained houses on the street, just five houses down from where I pass Catherine Conway and her brothers playing in the yard while Miriam keeps a careful eye on them. After Catherine’s fall from the large tree in their yard, neither she nor Dan let the kids play outside unsupervised. The tree is ablaze in fall color, but the carefully mown brownish-green lawn shows only a few stray red and gold leaves. The flower beds near the house show recent mulching, and there are fall annuals planted. Their garden statue of Mary sports a crown of white chrysanthemums, and a statue of Saint Francis that doubles as a bird feeder has a couple of small diners nibbling on the seed filling the bowl in his
