And now they'd apparently decided that day had arrived.
I walked over to the gate.
The keypad was the same one I'd personally installed years earlier.
I entered our usual security code.
The screen flashed red.
**ACCESS DENIED.**
I tried again, pressing each number slowly to make certain I hadn't made a mistake.
**ACCESS DENIED.**
Behind me, Linda let out a shaky breath.
“He said I shouldn't cause a scene,” she murmured. “He told me I'd only embarrass myself if I argued.”
I turned back toward my wife.
This was the woman who had stood beside me when we barely had enough money to pay rent.
The woman who had worked extra shifts so we could save for our first home.
The woman who had helped me build the life our son now believed he could simply take.
