As she took her seat and smoothed her cream-colored sweater down across her stomach, Santiago said, “Most of these folks have passed on, I believe, but a few people are still around. I’ll start asking questions after I go visit Terrance Harlow.” He stood up and came over to where Xzanthia sat, looking calm but also a bit fatigued. “Thank you, Ms. Nicholas. You’ve been a huge help.”
Mrs. Stephenson was headed home to a dinner of fried chicken and mashed potatoes, she told us. “My husband doesn’t cook that often, but when he does, it’s a meal worth getting excited about.” She grinned as she climbed into her car, and then Mika walked me to mine.
“You sure you don’t mind me coming along tonight? I know it’s your usual night with your boys,” she asked.
“No, please come. The day has been hard
