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The first thing I remember was the oldest boy standing barefoot in the rain, holding his little sister’s hand and pointing back toward the house. He kept saying their mother would not wake up, but what bothered me was something else: the front door was open, the kitchen lights were on, and a man had already called police from three miles away claiming there had been an accident. By the time we found the woman upstairs, that word—accident—was already beginning to fall apart.
Part 1 Officer Daniel Mercer saw the children before he saw the address. They were standing beneath the weak yellow glow of a streetlamp at...
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