led of rotting vegetables and urine. Imogene stepped out the heavy steel doo

les screamed in protest. She wiped her forehea

mm

ws behind the dumpster. It wa

mp. Frank Kowalski. Her foster father. The man who had taken her in when she "d

ce was unshaven, his eyes yellowed

, her voice tight. "I

" Frank slurred. He lun

had grabbed her the night before. The bruise was sti

he tried to

. "I got debts, Immy. Bad debts. You

ene shouted. "I gave i

ia

ed onto the wet pavement. Tampons, a hairbrush, a library book, and the remain

the cash. "Rent, huh?

ene dropped to her knee

in the chest. Imogene fell backward, landing in a puddle

ontusion. She catalogued Frank's movements, the way he favored his left leg, the slight wheeze in his breath.

ack. He looked out, saw the domestic dispute, and closed the door

r leg. "You're just like your mo

pack at her. "Don't come

down the alley, disap

ng. She felt a deep, crushing hollowness in her chest. She could kill him. She kn

w attention. She couldn't have the police run her prints. If the Cof

rated through

at the mouth of the alley. A Maybach. The ti

e was too busy trying to gather her scattere

irl in the mud. He saw the man walk away with the mon

n said. His v

Marcus asked fro

reet trash fighting over scraps

full of broken people. He couldn't fix

r purr

k. Her hands were shaking, not from fear, but fro

at the em

roat, right over the carotid artery. A single, cle

he subway, the fury banked int