In the dead silence of a Tuesday morning, at 5:03 A.M., the sound was an intrusion, a violent tear in the fabric of the dark. Margaret bolted upright in bed, her heart hammering a frantic rhythm against her ribs. No good news ever travels at five in the morning.
She fumbled for the device on the nightstand. Unknown Number.
“Hello?” Her voice was thick with sleep and rising dread.
“Is this Margaret Hale?” The voice on the other end was male, clipped, and professional, but with an undercurrent of urgency that made Margaret’s blood turn to ice.
“Yes. Who is this?”
Margaret jumped out of the truck. The rain soaked her instantly.
“Ma’am! Stay back!” an officer shouted.
