Caine showed up a few days before I left to return to Rochester. He had a look in his eyes that gave me hope.

“I have a letter from my father to your father.”

He patted his jacket pocket. It was fucking snowing outside and he wore a light coat.

“He's in his office. I told him we would be speaking to him.”

“Father, this is Caine Fenella, the reason I've survived Rochester this long.”

“Mr. Laterza,” Caine said formally. “I have a letter from ...