Keena, nose working overtime, climbs the porch steps and stops next to the fridge. Her loud whine sounds in the crisp early morning air. Fuck. Richter and I both make a mad dash to the fridge. It’s old, but the door frame isn’t frozen shut like I had expected. Gripping the handle, I wrench it open. And there she is. A tiny girl with blonde pigtails swaddled in a purple parka. Seeing us, she lets out a weak cry from her rosebud mouth and rubs her eyes. “How’d the hell she get in there?” Richter blasts, looking pale. I grab her up in my arms and hold her tight against my chest. Her small heart
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