Ping pulled up to the curb in front of the gray craftsman house. Without a word, Mara bolted from the car. As he and Sam walked to the front door, Mara stood there rattling the doorknob, unable to turn it even though she had inserted a key. She pounded on the door and yelled, “Mom, it’s Mara. Open up.” She pressed the doorbell several times. They could hear a muffled tone inside, but no footsteps moved to answer.
Ping pointed to a window to the left of the porch. “There’s a blue light coming from inside. Is there a television in that room?”
“Yes, but my mother isn’t much of a television watcher,” Mara said, leaning over the porch railing to get a look.
She saw her mother’s back. Diana sat in a lotus position on the floor of the living room inside a blue haze, the source of which her bod
