“I heard our foster mother talking about him once,” Tory said after an extended silence. “I heard her say …” I could hear the effort it took for her to even form the words. “They found Beau half-dead in the desert. He was six years old, and someone just left him there. No food, no water. He’d been out there for days.” Her voice shook slightly. “No one knew where he’d come from or who left him. Beau couldn’t tell them. He didn’t say a word, not to anyone, for two years.” No one knew where he’d come from. Like dominoes, falling one by one, everything I knew about Beau’s motivation, about the
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