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Accident reports. The death certificate Lucas had handled for me. Receipts from the funeral home. I moved like a grieving woman at first. By midnight, I moved like a witness.
At 3:40 in the morning, I called my son.
He answered on the fourth ring, thick with sleep.
“Mom? What time is it?”
“I need you to come over.”
“Did something happen?”
“Yes.”
“Are you continue reading …
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