“Buy him, sir… my mom is about to die!” The roar of the motorcycles faded as Jack Reynolds saw the little girl standing by the roadside, clutching a cardboard sign and a German Shepherd that wouldn’t move an inch from her side. The sign offered Duke for a few coins, but it wasn’t that which made his blood run cold. It was the little girl’s eyes. Swollen, red, and far too tired for a child so young.
Before anyone could knock on the door, Jack raised his hand, ordering silence, as if that gesture could contain the storm that had been growing inside him for years. The motorcycle engines were still sputtering, but no one was speaking. Everyone knew that look on Jack’s face, the one that appeared when something crossed an…
