Emma pulled into the driveway and froze.

Daniel's car. Parked in its usual spot. At five thirty in the afternoon. He was never home before eight. Never home before the kids were fed and homework done and bedtime approaching.

Something was wrong. Had to be wrong.

Emma grabbed her bag. Walked to the front door. Her stomach churning. Her mind racing through possibilities. None of them good.

She opened the door. The sound hit her first. Laughter. Yara's high pitched ...