At 7:15 the next morning, loud pounding shook our front door.
I was in the kitchen in my bathrobe making oatmeal. Ellie was still asleep upstairs. It was Saturday.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
I nearly dropped the pot.
Nobody comes to our door at seven in the morning. Nobody comes to our door much at all. The mailman. The Jehovah’s Witnesses once a month. Mrs. Abernathy from next door with zucchini bread in the summer.
BAM. BAM. BAM.
I tightened my robe. I went to the front window and pulled back the edge of the curtain.
A black SUV was parked at the curb in front of my house. Big and shiny. Tinted windows. The kind of car you see on TV when the government comes to take somebody away.
A tall man in a dark suit stood on my porch. He was holding a large manila envelope.
My stomach tightened.
