I CAME HOME FROM A WORK TRIP, AND MY 7-YEAR-OLD SON SAID, “DON’T GO INTO MY ROOM” — NATURALLY, I LOOKED

the washing machine, or footsteps upstairs.

Lauren had been staying with Bennett while I was away.

She was thirty-two, responsible, and one of the most protective people I knew when it came to my son. She had adjusted her work schedule without hesitation after I asked if she could help.

I called out to her.

“Lauren?”

Nothing.

The silence felt unsettling.continue reading …