Ginny finds her daughter in the woods with a stranger.

  • Excerpt

    Ginny froze for a moment. The child was clearly her daughter. In fact, those were the braids she had done only the day before, and those small black and white ornaments at the tips of each pigtail—she had made them. She took the gun out of her pocket. “I made those pigtails. I braided them.”

    The man put his hands up, eyeing her carefully. Men and their gestures, she thought. This was supposed to mean: I am innocent; I don’t know what you want. Standing in front of my child—my child—pretending that he’s innocent as hell. “If I find you touched her, I’ll kill you.”