It was a kind of grave-robbing.

He was willing to disturb his father’s rest, to desecrate the one space where I still had Henry, in pursuit of money.

And when I saw him do it on that recording, something in my grief for Henry and my grief for the son Michael used to be became, finally, the same grief, because both of those men were gone, and this stranger going through the desk was all that remained.

Chapter 11 — Take a Picture