A fine, drizzling rain drifted through the gray sky.
James dragged his useless, crippled leg along the street, wandering aimlessly with nowhere to go.
All he had to his name was twenty dollars, stuffed into his hand by Mike.
He bought a sandwich and scarfed it down in seconds.
The tiny bit of food in his stomach only pushed one name straight to the front of his mind, Grace.
He was going to get answers out of her.
Why wouldn't she answer his calls? Why did she say she didn't even know who he was?
Before long, James reached the entrance of the luxury apartment building where Grace rented.
He hunkered down beside the flower bed. His eyes locked dead on the elevator doors, never once looking away.
He waited. And waited. Until eight o'clock that night.
Finally, the elevator doors slid
