The Day I Dropped My Husband at the Airport, My Eight-Year-Old Daughter Warned Me Not to Go Home. Minutes Later, I Saw Why.
PART 10
It was difficult to explain to Lily why our home had become a place we could not visit.
Her favorite books were there, along with the blue quilt my father had helped me choose and the small wooden jewelry box where she kept smooth stones from family trips.
Rachel lent her clothes and bought a new set of colored pencils, but replacements were not the same as familiar things.
A victim services coordinator helped us request a supervised retrieval of essential belongings once investigators said a limited visit would not interfere with their work.
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