I was buttoning up my coat to go to my husband’s funeral when my grandson burst into the garage, pale as a ghost. “Grandma, don’t start the car! Please don’t!”
And in that instant, the cold wind swept through the empty garage behind them, as if confirming that something horribly real had almost happened. The truth hadn’t been spoken yet, but Helen already felt it with a heartbreaking clarity. Something—someone—had wanted her to not arrive at her own husband’s funeral… alive. As they walked down the…
