***
The drive took twenty-three minutes.
I remember every one of them.
The traffic lights.
The rain beginning to strike the windshield.
The sound of the detective's radio as officers reported their positions.
I kept calling my mother.
Straight to voicemail.
Again.
Voicemail.
Again.
Nothing.
By the time we reached her neighborhood, two police cars were parked outside the house.
The front door stood open.
My heart nearly stopped.
I tried to run inside, but Detective Harris caught my arm.
“Emily, let us make sure it's safe.”
An officer emerged from the doorway.
“The house is clear. No suspect inside.”
I pushed past him.
“Mom!”
The living room looked almost normal.
Her reading glasses rested beside an unfinished crossword puzzle.
A half-empty cup of tea stood on the coffee table.
But the vase near the front entrance was shattered.
Glass covered the floor.
And my mother's phone lay beside the staircase.
