On a drowsy Sunday afternoon, a man in a long dark coat hesitated in front of a house on a tree- lined street. He hadn't parked a car, not had he come by taxi. No neighbor had seen him strolling along the sidewalk. He simply appeared, as if stepping between on shadow and the next .
The man walked to the door and lifted his fist to knock.
Inside the house, Jude sat on the living room rug and ate fish sticks, soggy from the microwave and dragged through a sludge of ketchup. Her twin sister, taryn, napped on the couch, curled around a blanket , thumb in her fruit- punch - stained mouth.