TwelveI pulled into the cul-de-sac and circled around until I found the correct address. The house wasn't as foreboding as my mind led me to believe it would be, in fact it looked similar to the ones on either side. Before me stood a grey, two story, stone home that couldn't be much more than ten years old, complete with the proverbial white picket fence. My imagination seemed to have gotten the best of me again, and I half laughed at myself, shaking my head.
After apologizing profusely for calling Amanda so early on a Saturday morning, I explained everything and Amanda was eager to help. Never before had I ever even contemplated the notion of visiting such a place, but there I was.
Slowly, and with just a hint of unease, I emerged from the car and made my way to the front door. The smal
