My heart was pounding so hard that I feared Chloe could hear it. I recognized those shoes. They were Lucy’s, my daughter-in-law’s, the same ones she had worn to my son Charles’s birthday party the week before. Chloe hid her face in my lap, her little body rigid like a trapped bird. Through the gap, I saw the shoes stop in front of the first stall. A dull thud sounded as the door opened, then another as it closed. She moved to the second, the third. The thuds continued, rhythmic, cold. She was checking them one by one, like a hunter searching for her prey.