My mother had taken it.

She had been planning this for a long time.

I gripped the steering wheel until my fingers went numb.

I took the exit for her neighborhood.

The streets here were lined with old oak trees, their branches bare and black against the grey sky.

The houses were large, set back from the road behind iron fences.

I pulled my truck up to the curb three houses down from my mother’s place.

I turned off the headlights.

Her house was completely dark.

The Victorian turrets looked like sharp teeth against the clouds.

I sat in the darkness, listening to the rain tap against the metal roof of my truck.

I reached into the glove compartment and pulled out my flashlight.

I also grabbed the spare key to her back door.

My father had given it to me before he died.

He had told me to keep it in case of emergencies.

I never thought this would be the emergency.

I opened the truck door and stepped out into the rain.

I walked along the sidewalk, keeping close to the hedges.