The rain had quit just before seven, but cold water was still dripping off the cedar shingles over the garage doors on Pine Street.

Two County Sheriff cruisers idled at the curb by the front stone pillars, their exhaust curling up in pale gray plumes against the wet brick wall.

Deputy Miller stood at the foot of the front steps, holding a clipboard against his dark yellow rain jacket.

“You can’t go up there, Madison,” he said as I came across the sidewalk.

He held out a white sheet of paper bound at the top in a heavy blue legal cover.

“Bradley Collins filed an emergency petition at six fifteen this morning.