It read 11:22 a.m.

My mother-in-law, Teresa Ramos, usually left our house for her Thursday church reading group luncheon at eleven o’clock sharp, but I had no way of knowing whether she had snapped that latch shut at ten in the morning or two minutes before she drove off.

“Noah, how long ago did Grandma leave?” I asked, keeping my eyes on the traffic ahead.

“I don’t know,” Noah cried, wiping his nose on his sleeve while his small fingers kept twisting his shirt.