At 5 a.m., I got a call from my son-in-law: “Come pick up your daughter at the bus stop
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…