protest sign drooping in his han

ion, walked right up to him. He p

gentle. "What they did to your mother is

rior cracking for just a moment. I saw th

our number," I said. It wasn' t a question. "I have

His hand was trembling slightly as he handed

me?" he asked, his v

I said simply. "And because no one should

"Kid, in this world, you don' t get what you d

my worst suspicions: the Lesters had paid a fixer to have Ethan' s mother buried in an u

n' t just neglect; it was a deliberate act of c

his usual fake charm. "Maddy, about last night... my

yan," I said,

u about my D.C. internshi

ung

id for the finest cherrywood casket, a beautiful plot in a private cemetery overlooking a lake, an

h the fiery eyes, the boy who deserved so much more than the scraps his father' s family had thrown him. He was l