Margaret sat in the wicker armchair on the front porch next to a steaming mug of tea, smoothing the lapels of her lavender jacket as she watched my sedan pull in.

“You have twenty minutes for personal clothing and essential toiletries, Mrs.

Holloway,” the officer said, a wooden clipboard in his left hand.

I climbed the front stone steps and walked past Margaret without a word.

“It’s always easier when people accept reality, Emily,” Margaret said softly, her voice carrying across the porch railing.

I went up the carpeted stairs to the second floor and into Sophie’s bedroom.

Her gray stuffed rabbit was sitting on the unmade bed, its long floppy ears lying across her white pillow.