He was someone else’s child, someone else’s whole world, and he was gone, and I felt the horror of that land on me even through my own confusion — that this was a child, that a child had died, that whoever loved this little boy did not yet know their life had ended.

Behind me, Luke, who had followed me down with his legal counsel, went completely rigid.

“Who is this?” I whispered.

“Whose child is this?”

Chapter 11 — Bruno

There were hurried footsteps in the concrete corridor, and then Camellia was in the room — she had gotten past security somehow, and she came through the door already breaking apart, and the instant she saw the small face above the sheet, a sound tore out of her that I hope never to hear again as long as I live.