She tripped because she was running where she shouldn’t have been.”

I didn’t answer my sister.

I got up, shifted Emma’s weight onto my hip and walked fast toward the front door.

The late October air hit my face the instant I pushed the front door open.

The Oak Creek morning was gray and bitterly cold.

I carried Emma down the concrete porch steps.

I’d left my purse on the hook in the hall, but my car keys were heavy in the right pocket of my jeans.

“Rachel, wait,” my mother called from the house.