On our drive back to Texas, I noticed my daughter’s purse half-open in the trunk. A chill ran through me as I whispered, “Stop the car. Now.” My sister froze, then hit the brakes. That one moment changed everything — because inside was something no mother ever expects to see.

The trunk of the car was slightly ajar, and among the shopping bags, I saw it: the forgotten purse of my daughter, Donna. A flash of brown leather caught my attention like a magnet. In that instant, a chill, sharp and violent, ran down my spine. A premonition so visceral it made me tremble.

“Stop the car right now!” I yelled at my sister, Carol, who was driving calmly along the rural highway that was taking us back home.