Chapter 31
Clouds billowed above the cemetery, dark and threaded with menace, a fitting send-off for a man who ruined so many lives.
Denise, Andrew’s mother, leaned on my father’s arm. Every now and then she would dab at her eyes with a neatly folded handkerchief, careful not to smudge her perfectly applied makeup. I was pleased to see her artfully styled hair being blown every which way and the veil attached to her perky hat whipping around in the wind.
She’d run out on Dad when Andrew was four, declaring motherhood was not for her, and had made little effort to see her son in the years since. Yet here she was, playing the grieving mother to an audience who knew it for a sham.
It was a pitiful audience at that. Sam and Chris had planned on attending, for moral support, but they’d both
