I hired a young man to mow my daughter’s lawn—then he called to ask why someone was crying inside her empty house, and what we heard next changed everything
Since the custody dispute had turned ugly, she had become almost obsessive about security. New locks. Checked windows. Alarm questions. Closed doors. Locked gates. All the habits of a woman who no longer felt safe in her own home.
I reached beneath the ceramic frog by the flowerpot. The spare key was still there.
