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My husband Cliff came in from the garage. It was early Saturday afternoon, and I was in the kitchen. He had been down at his law office, working as usual. I had heard him when he pulled in the car, but I was not prepared for how he looked. He was pale. He was definitely shaken, and he almost seemed stunned.

"I just saw Traci," he said.

Traci is our eighteen-year-old daughter. She was at a Church retreat, with the youth group at the Church we attend, two towns over.

"That's nice," I responded, "but where? Why were you at the Church?"

"I wasn't at the Church," he told me.

"Well, how did you see her, then? Remember she's at the retreat today; she's not supposed to be home until about 10:00 tonight."

"She's not at the retreat," Cliff insisted.

"What do you mean?" A kind of nervous spasm made my voice quaver.

"I went over to use the law library at the courthouse, and I saw her at River Park."

...

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