During Family Breakfast, My Sister Hurled a Hot Frying Pan at My Daughter
The heavy silver bangle on her wrist clinked against the metal clasp as she went down my front steps into the dusk.
At nine o’clock the next morning, Detective Sarah Mitchell met me in the main lobby of the Oakland County Sheriff’s Department in Pontiac.
“Thanks for coming in so fast, Rachel,” Mitchell said.
She had on a navy blazer over a pressed gray blouse, her silver investigator’s badge clipped firmly to her leather belt.
She took me through a heavy electronic security door and down a quiet carpeted hallway to room 104.
It was a secure video review room fitted with dark acoustic wall panels, a long oak table, and a wide monitor hung from the ceiling.
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