“You shouldn’t have come, Grant. Now we’re all in danger.” Just then, a black car pulled up behind us, and my daughter screamed…

make out vibrant, spherical shapes. Oranges.

She swiped a bead of perspiration from her brow, visibly steeled her nerves, and extended a trembling finger toward the intercom buzzer.

Ignoring her would have been effortless. I could have simply muted the terminal, letting the brutal California sun chase her off to the next driveway while I returned to continue reading …