My heart squeezed painfully. What the heck had this man gone through?
“I’m so sorry,” I whispered, “Justice may not have been served, but I believe in karma. One way or another, it catches up. People like that don’t escape forever.”
He didn’t reply right away. Instead, he stared off into the distance.
Then, without warning, he asked, “You want to hear an interesting fact?”
I hesitated. Honestly, I didn’t think I could take another heartbreak from this man. But he didn’t wait for an answer. He kept going, as if the words had been building inside him for years and finally found someone to listen.
“I was in jail when my son died,” he said. “Put there by the same man who killed my grandson.”
My jaw fell open slightly, stunned.
I wanted to ask what he’d been jailed for—but something told
