150. What We Are Asking ForRoman

Weston was slightly bigger than his brother. That was the first thing I noticed about the triplets.

After we had talked for a while and I looking like a prisoner in my own suite, Weston stood up. He stayed standing near the window, hands loosely folded behind his back, posture straight, eyes on the city below as though this conversation were just another item on a long, orderly list. No anger. No accusation. No hesitation.

Businesslike. Calm. Controlled. He ...