Detective Miller had signed the first page.
His handwriting leaned hard to the right.
I noticed that because I needed to notice something that did not hurt.
Then I stepped into the hallway and saw Victor Wolfe with his seven sons.
They stood together near the window, relaxed enough to be insulting.
Victor wore a charcoal suit that looked untouched by the day.
Dominic, the oldest, leaned against the wall with his arms folded.
The others spread around them in a loose half circle.
Mason stood at the end holding a paper coffee cup with both hands.
Tessa had grown up calling those men family.
Victor was her father.
The seven men beside him were her brothers.
Victor had held the spare key to our house since the year we married.
Dominic had helped me carry our couch through the front door.
Mason had spent an entire Saturday beneath our kitchen sink fixing a leak while Tessa made grilled cheese for all three of us.
