You may trust him in the dark —Cicero
“Mr. Howard? Mr. Howard, are you home?”
Nick checked the door. Unlocked. Swinging it open, he called out again. “Mr. Howard?”
“Is that you, Nick?” a voice called from down the hall. “I’m in here. Come on back.”
The baby rested quietly in Nick’s arms.
He’d made his way over the dry canal, through a stretch of trees, and t…
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