my phone in both hands.
On the screen was a video of my husband walking out of a hotel with his arm around my daughter-in-law.
Mark.
My husband of 31 years.
Jenna.
My son’s wife of three months.
At 8:42, Daniel’s truck pulled into the cemetery.
He got out wearing hospital scrubs and hurried toward me.
“Mom?”
I stood.
“Why are we here? What happened?”
“Sit down.”
“Mom.”
“Please.”
He sat beside me.
I unlocked my phone.
“I need you to watch something.”
He took it.
He watched the
