Healing, I was learning, was not a straight road away from fear.

One afternoon she called from Denise’s house, where she was staying while we arranged longer-term housing.

“Josie, I remembered something.

Wendell kept a locked metal cabinet in the garage.

Not the tool chest.

The gray one behind the freezer.

He said it held veterans’ case files.”

“Don’t go looking for it,” I said immediately.