“Linda, we’re outside your house with the kids. Where are you?”
I was three states away visiting my sister.
And for the first time in years, I let the phone keep ringing.By Saturday morning, Daniel had left twenty-seven missed calls.
Madison started sending photos of the children sitting inside their minivan, hoping guilt would work because it always had before. And honestly, it usually did. That had always been the problem.
At 8:14 that morning, Daniel texted:
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