For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then he said, “Your mother ruined my daughter’s Halloween 25 years ago. Tonight, I thought you might finally understand how that feels.”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“You refused candy to my daughter because of something you think my mother did?”
He didn’t answer immediately.
Then he said, “Now you know what it’s like.”
The younger officer shifted uncomfortably.
I looked at the pink shoes.
“Those belonged to your daughter?”
“Yes.”
“And you brought them here to punish an eight-year-old?”
His face hardened.
“You don’t understand what happened.”
“Then explain it.”
The older officer gently interrupted, saying there was no immediate danger. He advised Mr. Harrison not to leave anything else at our home and asked whether I felt safe.
I said yes, although I was furious.
After the officers left, I remained on the porch.
Mr. Harrison stood a few feet away, staring at the box.
