The kids huddled in the alleyway were a patchwork of misfortune—some with a single arm as if shaped


    by nature’s unforgiving hand, others mute or blind since birth.


    “I’ve brought you guys some grub,” Abdul dered with a maturity beyond his years while distributing


    food.


    I was taken aback.


    Why weren’t these children in foster care? The system had surely improved by now


    “Abdul, where did you get the food?” a little girl asked in delight.


    Abdul swelled with pride, “Miss Foebe snagged it for us, but it’s our secret, okay? If you see her, just


    y it cool, like you don’t know her, got it?”


    Hiding by the doorway, my heart raced with anxiety but ached even more with sorrow.


    These kids… they seemed to hold Foebe in high regard.


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    What exactly was her connection to them?


    “When’s Grandma Que getting out of the hospital? Is she gonna be alright?” a timid boy inquired.


    “She’ll pull through,” Abdul murmured, slumping down beside him. “With Foebe around, Grandma’s


    gotta make it.”


    Their conversation piqued my curiosity, Was Grandma Que Foebe Larson’s grandmother? The same


    lady Zack Larson used as a bargaining chip?


    A pang of guilt struck me. Since my rebirth, I hadn’t once visited Foebe’s grandmother yet.


    It wasn’t that I didn’t want to; I was afraid.


    The closest kin are often the first to notice the slightest changes in their loved ones.


    I wasn’t Foebe, and her grandmother would surely see through me, no matter the lies I spun.


    But now, I might just have to bite the bullet and pay her a visit.


    The kids were connected to both Foebe and her grandmother, and Abdul’s brother got ties to the


    murderer. It was as if everyone was connected dots, and any one of them could be the murderer.


    No one could escape it.


    Stepping away from the alley, I nned to head to the hospital, but a ck sedan pulled up beside me.


    The window rolled down to reveal Dexter in the back seat.


    Was he tracking me?


    Had he literally lost his mind?


    “Dexter, what the heck do you want?” He’d cornered me into meeting him at the office.


    yesterday, and now he’s stalking me? Was he just twiddling his thumbs? He seemed assured I wouldn’t


    show today, threats notwithstanding.


    His expression was cool, his voice icy, “Get in.”


    I turned to leave.


    “Imagine if Robin found out you’ve been secretly funding these kids. Think the cops would want a chat


    with you? The prime suspect for goading them to off Melody might just be you,” Dexter stated gravely.


    He was confident I’d cave.


    I froze, then spun back to face him.


    If he dared to say this, he must have done his homework.


    “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I clenched my fists, still ying dumb.


    “Your foster parents passed when you were ten, and you grew up in the countryside with your grandma


    Que. To help find your birth parents, she took you to the city at thirteen to scrape by, collecting trash.


    These kids owe a lot to her,” Dexter dropped the bombshell.


    I picked up the photos he’d tossed to the ground. These were snapshots of Foebe with the children, no


    doubt about it.


    “After the Larsons took you back at eighteen, you’d constantly nick their stuff and pawn it to support


    these kids. Am I wrong?” Dexter’s gaze was icy. “The Larson family losing trinkets wasn’t a big deal,


    but your sister Coraline Larson caught you red–handed. She ckmailed you, and even got the cops


    involved to humiliate you. You, the backwoods belle turned Sea City scandal. Your parents were


    mortified, wishing they’d never had you.


    Two months ago, a scrawny kid yed the sympathy card, lured a woman into an alley, and she


    vanished. Soon after, the woman’s body turned up,” Dexter continued relentlessly.