Four months later
I was reading a report when I heard my phone ring. When I picked it up, I saw it was from the local police department. I frowned; they rarely called me.
"Child protective services, this is Ava," I answered, retrieving a notepad and a pen.
"Hello, I'm police officer Mark Woodman from Arizona police department. I was told you are the caseworker for Miles Serentino?" the man said, and I scribbled down his name as I listened.
"Yes, I am. What can I do for you?" I asked.
"I'm calling to inform you that Mr. Serentino is dead, Miss Ava. He has been killed," the police officer said, and I shifted in my chair. Killed?
"Excuse me, did I hear that right? He was killed? How?" I asked, scribbling in my notebook. Miles' father was an asshole. Every time I've met him, he's be
