The thin handles of the plastic grocery bag dug painfully into my fingers, carrying nothing more than a cheap box of coffee filters. Ten minutes. I had been gone for ten minutes. Yet as I pushed open the front door, the air inside felt instantly, terrifyingly wrong. The deadbolt was unlatched. From the kitchen, the familiar sizzle of searing garlic drifted down the hallway, wrapped in the warm, careless laughter of my wife and daughter.