My 11-year-old pulled me behind a pillar at the mall—what we saw my mother-in-law doing made us hide, and by morning, two people had gone pale

his jacket.

Margaret glanced around nervously.

“Tomorrow morning. They’ll both be gone by eight. The girl has school, and Laura works downtown.”

My breath caught.

The man asked, “And your son?”

“He leaves at six-thirty. You’ll have at least two hours.”

Emily’s face turned white.

I gently covered her mouth before she could gasp.

Then Margaret said the sentence continue reading …