48 SundayMaggie gave up on sleep. In her dreams she was back in Green Bay, Wisconsin, helping her mother pack up their things. Only Maggie wasn’t a little girl. She was grown. The house didn’t look anything like the one they had lived in. It was small and dark and smelled bad. Boxes surrounded them. They didn’t speak to each other while they packed. But instead of boxes, her mother just kept handing her one takeout container after another.
Finally around 3:00 a.m. Maggie crawled out of bed and quietly gathered her running gear in the dark, so she wouldn’t wake Greg. By five o’clock she’d run two miles under the light of street lamps with her shoulder holster under the baggy sweatshirt. By 6:30 a.m. she was on the road after she’d showered and changed into jeans and a T-shirt. Her shoulder
