Victor Prescott died eight months ago. Complications from a stroke, if you want the plain truth, not the dramatic kind. There is no one left who has the will or the resources to come looking for her. The reason today is the day, and not some ordinary Tuesday, is that the organization’s protection contract runs until the ward turns sixteen or the threat is confirmed gone — whichever comes first. Both happened this year.
Sixteen years ago I found a stranger’s baby in a car trunk — I never imagined she’d been left there for me.
