“Please, arrest me. I’d rather go to jail than go back to that house…”

aggressively tracking down former, discarded employees of the Miller household. It took two grueling weeks of slammed doors, disconnected phone numbers, and terrifying dead ends before I finally found her.

The freezing rain had finally subsided, leaving behind a bone-deep, damp chill as I slid into the cracked vinyl booth of a dimly lit, greasy roadside continue reading …