tant, miserable drumbeat that matched the frantic pounding in my ches

ound that tore right through me. His small bod

that cost me the last of our grocery money. He needed real medic

taped to the door, the paper w

bar owner, a man whose eyes had lingered on me for too long when I served him coffee at the diner. The job

call the man, my thumb h

red. Strange, vivid images flooded my mind, sharp

y, but laughing in a bright, sunny cafe. He was sliding a credit c

oving into a spacious, clean apartment on the base, a home pa

king the bar owner' s job. I saw Leo, home al

l. It showed Ethan, standing there not with grief, but with grim satisfaction, using Leo' s death to divorce

a physical blow. The phone dropped from

owner's card was poison. That path was not

red, my voice

o my arms. His future, our future, was not going to

had to face Ethan. I had