After Nine-Year-Old Sadie Called Munich, Walter Hensley Drove Through the Snow

“Sadie, where are you calling from?” I asked.

“Are you in your room?”

“Mom, I’m outside by the garage, and Dad locked the door,” she said.

My hand clenched around the phone until my knuckles went white.

“What do you mean, you’re outside?” I asked.

“Sadie, talk clearly.”

“I went into your office to get my sketch pad,” Sadie whispered, her breath catching in quick, shallow little gasps.

“Dad got really mad at me because I touched a paper on the desk.”