Chapter NineteenY
ogi and I took the turn onto Hudson Road at a trot. “I can’t believe it’s been a week. A wild one.” Though I didn’t have a sense of déjà vu, this particular Saturday morning amble had me in a reflective mood.
On our walk one week earlier, all seemed right in my corner of the world. Garland was a low-crime town populated by citizens who had a strong sense of community and helped each other in time of need. We locked the doors to our homes, yes, but I doubted many residents did so out of fear of being murdered in the night. That attitude hadn’t changed in the week since Brooke’s death. Most people believed Brooke had been killed by someone close to her, someone she knew well—and not by a random assailant who might strike again at any moment.
We did our circuit of Hudson
