Chapter Three
Grasping at the ragged shreds of hope.
As it turned out, I guessed right. Christina’s boyfriend, Damian Slater, received the news just after midnight. When I woke the following morning, my phone told me I had five missed calls, all of which were from him. According to the voicemails, he’d spent the rest of his night and early morning hours watching footage of the wreck on the news.
The man himself hammered on my office door at eight thirty—about two hours earlier than I cared to start my day. When I opened the door, I instantly felt sorry for him. Although in his mid-twenties, Damian gave off the vibe of a slow-witted teenager. There was no nice way to dance around it.
Slim and wiry, the kid was handsome but permanently baby-faced, with a smooth complexion tapering to a p
