“What are you drawing?” Dominic asked, pointing to the paper.

“A castle,” she said. “With a big wall so the bad things can’t get inside.”

Dominic’s chest rose and fell in a heavy breath.

He looked at the yellow and green lines she had drawn.

“It is a very good wall,” he said softly. “It will keep you safe.”

“Are you a friend of my mama’s?” she asked.

Dominic paused, his fingers twitching against his knee.

“Yes,” he said. “I am an old friend.”

I watched them from the counter, my throat tight.

He looked so much like her, yet so out of place among the fairy tales and picture books.

His phone vibrated in his pocket, a low, dull buzz.

He closed his eyes for a brief second, then stood up and walked toward the history section.

He pulled the phone out and answered it in a hushed, sharp voice.

“Marco,” he said.

I moved closer to the shelves, pretending to straighten a row of biographies.

“What did you find?” Dominic whispered.

I listened carefully, catching every word.