“No, ma’am.” The boy looked frightened. “You need that more than I do.”
“Maybe. But you need supper tonight. I’ll manage.”
He wiped his eyes with his sleeve.
“I’m Owen. What’s your name?”
“Nora.”
“No, ma’am.”
He wrote my name on a torn bus schedule and promised he would find me someday.
My stomach tightened as I snapped back to reality.
“Where is he?”
His expression shifted, but he didn’t answer.
“I’m afraid my instructions were only to deliver this personally.”
“Where is he?”
He held out the box.
I stared at it.
“What is it?”
“I wasn’t told.”
That made no sense.
I took the box slowly.
Before stepping away, he looked straight at me.
I took the box slowly.
“He made sure you got what you deserve.”
The words chilled me.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
But he only apologized and said there was nothing more he could tell me.
