Heaven’s Light
To Paul, as always.
Prologue
Christian Rivers was seven when he saw his first dead body.
His Aunt Betty had died of complications with emphysema at the end of summer in 1988 at the ripe old age of seventy-eight. It was the last time he’d see her grand old smile and snowcapped hair. Her eyes were the color of lime green bottles.
He went to her funeral with his parents. He struggled to fit into a pair of corduroys and dress shirt. His mom, Lori, wanted him to wear a tie. It was his father Henry’s brown striped checkered that he’d bought at a thrift store in the center of town. Christian looked like a geek. “It is too long,” he’d told his father. “I look silly.”
“Stop griping,” Henry said, tugging and folding the ends of the fabric to make it look presentable on young Chr
