Every Friday at 6 p.m. my daughter called me without fail, and the one week my phone stayed silent I drove to her house and heard a sound from upstairs that turned our quiet Tennessee life into something I still can’t fully talk about

what it meant to lose someone—tightened my throat.

“Allison was like a sister to me,” Joyce added. “We worked together eight years. She told me everything. I know what Kevin is. I know what he did. I’ll help you however I can.”

It was the first real warmth I’d felt in a long time. Carter believed in the case, but he was bound by procedure. Margaret was continue reading …