“Annie, wait,” Dan said, reaching out to touch my arm.

I stepped back, avoiding his hand.

“I have three loads of laundry to fold, Dan,” I said. “And I need to prep the cheap hot dogs.”

I walked through the screen door and into the kitchen.

The cool air conditioning hit my face, a sharp contrast to the humid evening air outside.

I set the plates in the sink and turned on the tap.

Through the window above the sink, I could see Juliette still talking on her phone, gesturing wildly with her free hand.

She looked determined, her face set in a hard, stubborn line.

Sarah was standing near the edge of the lawn now, texting someone else with frantic speed.

Dan just sat on the steps, his head in his hands.

My phone buzzed in my apron pocket.

I dried my hands on a kitchen towel and pulled it out.

It was a notification from our home security app.

A vehicle was approaching the front gate, its headlights cutting through the dusk.

I tapped the notification on my screen.