I didn’t know that the last words I would ever say to my sister would be “Dominique, I’m so sorry, but can I call you tomorrow? I’m running late for a movie.” I meant to call the next day but didn’t, nor did I the day after that, which was October 30, the date that Sweeney showed up at Rangely Avenue, holding a bag of Halloween cookies he’d just baked. Ten minutes later, his hands were around her throat.
