Five years ago, I stood outside my house, waving as my husband Ben and our three sons drove away for one of their usual weekend trips to the cabin. It was something they had done for years—just the boys, time together in the quiet woods. I watched them disappear down the road, never imagining it would be the last time I’d see them.
Later that same day, I was at the kitchen sink, watching rain streak down the window, when a police car pulled into the driveway. At first, I assumed it was Aaron, a family friend and officer who sometimes stopped by.
