I spread the three photographs across Theron's desk, my hands still trembling. The overhead lamp cast harsh shadows across the images, making the smiling children we'd been look like strangers from another lifetime.
Zephyr stood beside me, his presence solid and grounding. He picked up the first photo, Theron and me in that forgotten backyard, and turned it over to read the inscription again.
"'My beautiful children.'" His voice was carefully neutral. "Your father's handwriting?"
"Yes." The word scraped my throat raw. I hadn't seen that handwriting in nine years, but I'd never forget it. The same hand that had signed report cards had also left bruises.
"Look at the dates." I pointed to the faded timestamp in the corner of each photo. "This one is from twenty-two years ago. This one, tw
