“Who is she?” Lynn asked when she and Alexis stepped up to the donations booth. Calista sat in a chair behind the table, chatting away with a young girl that appeared to be a few years younger. Lynn narrowed her eyes, unable to avert her attention away from the child. A light layer of darkened soot dotted the little girls cheeks, matted brown hair hung in dirty tendrils, and her clothes appeared excessively worn. Upon closer inspection, Lynn noticed the child’s shoes were thinning at the soles when she swung her legs. In her arms, she held a raggedy plush frog. At one time, Lynn supposed the frog had been green. Now, its fur was more of a dingy orange with patches missing.
Annette frowned when she placed a hand on Lynn’s shoulder. “Morgan has been with us for nearly a week. She refuses to
