Ben and I had eight children—five girls and three boys—and our home was always full of noise, chaos, and life. It was exhausting, but I loved every second of it.
When our sons grew older, Ben began taking them on special father-and-son trips to a secluded cabin in the woods, a place he had inherited from his grandfather. It became their tradition.
Five years ago, I stood outside, waving as they left for one of those weekends.
I didn’t know it would be the last time I ever saw them.
Later that day, I was standing at the kitchen sink, watching the rain fall, when a police car pulled into our driveway. At first, I didn’t think much of it—our friend Aaron was an officer and sometimes stopped by.
But the moment I opened the door and saw his face, I knew something was terribly wrong.
