INT. - TRENTON HOUSE - NIGHT

Gerri sat, uncomfortable and quiet, as James Trenton sobbed softly into the hair of his son while the boy's lower lip trembled. He was young enough surely the tyke didn't understand what the detective just told his father. But kids were perceptive and James's grief was hardly hidden.

The girl clung to his knee, staring at Gerri with massive eyes she refused to meet more than once. While they were empty of accusation, naturally, she couldn't ...