It always begins in the ordinary. A quiet street at dusk holds its breath. A teenager turns toward the mailbox, her last few seconds of normalcy ticking away. The squeak of sneakers on pavement, the click of a porch light coming on.
Elsewhere, a car sits on a highway shoulder, coffee cooling in the cup holder. The last known movements: a quick stop for gas, a single unanswered phone call. Frag...
