She checked the window locks, pressed her thumb against the screen to make sure it was secure, and noted the smoke detector on the ceiling.

She moved on to Lily’s room, checking the crib slats, the outlet covers, and the closet doors.

“Where’s the door to the garage?” she asked, turning back toward the kitchen.

“Through the laundry room,” I said.

I opened the heavy solid-core door into the garage.

The air inside had already climbed past ninety degrees and smelled of dry concrete dust and metal.

Sandra stood on the top step and looked across the space.