A coach saw him, weighing 70 kg and standing 1.65 meters tall, and blurted out…-mdue
Often she skipped meals without saying a word, quietly pushing the last pieces of bread toward her mother’s plate.
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It was on one of those bleak winter afternoons that a black sedan appeared on the gravel road leading to their farmhouse, its polished surface reflecting pale sunlight in a way that looked strangely out of place against the muddy farmland.
The man who stepped out of the vehicle carried himself with the calm confidence of someone accustomed to being taken seriously.
His name was Warren Delacroix.
He was in his early forties, tall and broad-shouldered, dressed in a tailored charcoal suit that seemed almost too perfect for a place where most people wore denim and work jackets.
His shoes were spotless despite the slush covering the ground.
Savannah met him outside the house, wiping her hands on her jacket.
“Can I help you?”
He nodded politely.
“I would like to speak with you and your mother for a moment.”
