That Saturday I woke before dawn to the sounds of sirens, the doorbell ringing, and Mattie crying. I sat up, glanced at Sarah’s empty bed, and then the door creaked open. Meg stood there in her polka-dotted pj’s and fuzzy slippers, framed by the light from the hallway.
“What’s going on?” I murmured.
“I don’t know. They won’t tell me.” She flipped on the light.
“God, Meg!” I shielded my eyes. “Turn it off.”
“Sorry.” She flicked the switch and the room went dark.
“Is it Old...