The Scapegoat Daughter

o the smell of blea

re, just a silent observer, a weightless presence tethered to him. I wa

moments was gone, replaced by a hollow

ront of him. He was professionally detached, his face a

g," he said, his voice flat. "In

ared on the large monitor. Black tras

ed, "dismembered. The M.E. is on site no

ess Cree

kil

tinez, looked pale. "J

replied, his eyes fixed on th

egs, my life, all chopped up and discarded in the swamp like garbage. I f

desk rang. He picked it

s soon as you have it. I want to know everythin

cold fire of a hunter. He didn't know he was looking for his own daughter. He was

t his subordinates. I watched him stare at a framed photo on his desk. It was of E

e no pict

passenger seat, an invisible passenger on a ride I'd taken a thousand times. He

ome, my mothe

ked, her voice a t

cket. "She's probably at her friend's place, su

hand going to her chest. "She is

. I could only watch as they moved on with their lives, their anger at me a comfortable, familiar blanket. They had no idea th