Gabe sat at his desk. He’d not liked leaving Cinda asleep in their bed, alone in the house with her newfound memories. She’d not brought it up after he’d returned home last night, and though she had talked to him about it before getting out of bed that afternoon, he was still worried that she needed to talk through it more.
Her past was not good, he’d always suspected as much, now it was here upon her, upon them. There wasn’t much he could do about it. He still didn’t know who the man that killed her mother was, or why he had been after her either. Though Cinda had told him she was a brat of a child, she’d not elaborated on that. He was certain there was more in her yet about her life.
He’d returned the police file to the station as he’d said he would, had stopped and picked up that phot
