Three official vehicles were parked in the street. A fourth was pulling into my driveway. Officers in uniform were already making their way up the path to my front door.
What I saw made me stand completely still.
My neighbor, Mrs. Callahan, was standing at her mailbox in her robe, holding her coffee cup, pretending she wasn’t watching. I grabbed my jacket off the chair by the door and opened it before they knocked again.
“Miss Rebecca?” the officer at the front said.
“Yes, Officer. What happened?”
“This is about the elderly man you helped at the grocery store yesterday,” he said. “We need to speak with you.”
