The September morning came quiet over Millhaven, too quiet, the kind of hush a small town falls into when it senses something it cannot name. Three black SUVs rolled down Cedarwood Lane in slow procession, tires whispering across old gravel, stopping outside the smallest house on the street.Single parent travel
Doors opened in unison. Three young women stepped into the yard, dark coats, steady shoulders, faces carved by 15 years no one here had witnessed. The youngest lifted a small wooden bird into the light.
