PART 1
At exactly 4:12 on a rainy afternoon in Portland, my eleven-year-old daughter stood outside the house she believed was home and discovered that her key no longer fit the lock.
Lily twisted the small brass key I had given her when she started middle school.
It had always worked smoothly.
That afternoon, it scraped against the lock, turned halfway, and stopped.
Rain soaked through her backpack and school clothes as she tried again.
Then she called me.
