It was sunny the day I went to the house where it all happened.

There was a sign nailed to a post at the end of the drive, ‘No Trespassers Allowed,’ so I pulled onto the shoulder of the road to look, recalling the pictures I’d seen. There were fewer trees lining the drive now, half as many outbuildings, and the house was considerably smaller than I’d imagined.

Suddenly an old woman came from behind the house pushing a wheelbarrow full of grass clippings. She saw me at the end of the drive, set the wheelbarrow down and frowned. I didn’t want to make her paranoid considering all that had happened there, was about to leave when she waved me in. I pulled in slowly as to appear nonthreatening, then imagined that was probably the way the killers had approached the house all those years ago and sped up.

When I got to the house, she was waiting.

“You want to see it?” she said.

“I don’t want to bother you.”

“You’ve already bothered me.”

I got out, and she led me to the side of the house where they’d crouched beside the propane tank, making plans before entering through the side door. It had been unlocked that evening.

We went inside, and she showed me the living room where they’d surprised the family.

“Are you married?” I asked.

“My husband died of cancer six years ago. Son lives in California. Let’s go upstairs and I’ll show you where they did the wife and daughter.”

We went up and saw, then she took me to the basement where they killed the father and son on the couch by the furnace room.

“Do you ever get lonely living out here by yourself?”

“You mean scared?”

I shrugged.

“No,” she said, looking me straight in the eyes. She pointed to the wall. “If you look close you can still see where the shot from the gun damaged the concrete.”

“It was pretty brutal,” I said, because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

“Life is brutal,” she said. “Don’t let anyone tell you it’s not.”

She led me out, and I got back in my truck, took a few pictures with my cellphone, and left.

On the way out of town I pulled into a ‘Stop and Shoppe’ to get a fountain drink. I sat at a little table by the front window and watched a wasp building a nest under the eave outside until I was finished.

To this day the whole thing feels wrong, unresolved, and I don’t know why.