justice.
A kind-faced man with white hair and gentle eyes greeted me. “Ms. Hartwell? I’m Robert Davies. I was a friend of Gerald’s. And your grandmother’s.”
He shook my hand, his grip firm and reassuring.
“I believe you have something for me?” he asked softly.
I placed the small brass key on his polished mahogany desk. It looked tiny and insignificant continue reading …
