The confrontation with her uncle left a bitter taste in Linsy’s mouth, a familiar residue of familial poison. His final threat..."Don't force my hand, Linsy. It will get ugly!"...echoed in her mind as she drove away, her knuckles white on the steering wheel. She knew his type; all bluster and greed, but dangerous in his desperation. Unseen, from the shadowed corner of a bus stop, Ceci watched the entire exchange, a venomous idea taking root in her mind. If Linsy were simply to… disappear, ...