18
Kat sat on a bed in one of the guest rooms of the St. Louis safe house, stroking a kitty and studying the files Bert had sent her.
“Shaun Summers,” one note read. “Shuffled through several foster families in Illinois. Fits the time frame, circumstances, and description, right down to the broken arm.”
Kat opened the attached photo and gasped. The boy staring back had the same black hair as she did.
An image flashed across her mind, a memory. Sister, what happened?
It had to be him.
She read further. “The trail ends around the age of sixteen, when he and his entire foster family died in a fire.”
Kat stared at a picture of a burnt out mobile home, horrified.
The pain in her chest flared as she read further.
“Seven people dead. Foster parents and five children, some foster, some bi
