he enjoyed the sunshine.
He wore white sneakers, navy trousers, sunglasses, and the expensive watch I’d bought for our tenth anniversary.
Julianne emerged from the passenger side.
A large shopping bag hung from one hand, a straw hat from her wrist.
Even across the street, I saw David smiling at something she said.
For an irrational moment, they looked like an ordinary couple returning from vacation.
Suitcases.
Tanned skin.
Duty-free purchases.
A driver unloading luggage.
Then David studied the house.
His smile faded.
No door wreath.
No car outside.
No lights in the front rooms.
He said something to Julianne.
She shrugged.
The driver departed.
David unlocked the door.
I lost sight of him from Susan’s window.
Agent Hale later described what happened inside.
David entered the foyer and called out.
“Sarah?”
Silence.
He walked farther inside.
The living room was nearly empty.
My mother’s paintings were gone.
So was
