Chapter 73

- LOUISA -

I've never seen Ward like this. Not at Huntington Manor. Not even when I was punched. He's perfectly still.

And then all of a sudden his hand darts out. He grabs the magazine off of the rack. Tears through the pages.

They didn't even bother to come up with a different title for the accompanying article. They just repeat the same, cold phrase across the top of the page.

Edward Carolson: Dead at 58.

I know that headline. I saw something similar on dozens of publications when my father died. On a hundred websites. It's always the same: blunt and sensational at the same time. Like the people who appear in these magazines are fictional characters, and every event of their life is just one more scene in that massive soap opera. Like they don't leave behind real people who have to see reminders of their loved ones wherever they turn.

Ward's hands are shaking. He's still holding the magazine open, but the pages are fluttering. I don't think he can even read the article.

I'm s