I was three minutes from her father's house when she called.
It was strange especially because I had not been driving in that direction specifically. I had left her front step an hour ago and gone back to the pack house and sat in my office and stared at a report I wasn't reading for forty minutes and then gotten back in the car without a clear destination because sitting still was not working and driving was at least motion, and somehow ended up three minutes from her father's house.
The broken window was visible from the street.
I parked and was out of the car and at the front door in a few minutes. I observed the image before me. A shattered kitchen window. Glass on the garden path below it. Cold morning air moving through the gap. Someone had been here.
I knocked once and opened th
