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I came home early and heard my thirteen-year-old daughter crying behind her bedroom door. My ex-husband was blocking the hallway while his new wife watched, and her eighteen-year-old son was emptying my desk drawers onto the floor. “Where did you put the deed?” my ex demanded. Then my daughter whispered that the boy had hidden something in his backpack—and when I saw my mother’s jewelry pouch sticking from it, I locked myself in the bathroom and called 911.
Part 1 The dispatcher told me not to confront anyone. That was difficult advice to follow when my daughter was crying twenty feet away....
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