Every time she mentioned his name, Julia's face lit up with a smile that came from somewhere deep and real.
I was her mother. I could tell. She was genuinely happy.
And I was certain — truly certain — that Silas loved my daughter.
That was why, after she was murdered, his grief had turned his hair white overnight.
In the three months since, he hadn't rested for a single day.
Especially after he'd posted the ten-million-dollar reward. Calls had poured in from every corner of the country.
If even one person claimed to have spotted someone suspicious, he'd get in his car and drive there immediately.
One night at two in the morning, he got a call. Someone in the next county over said there was a drifter who liked to follow pregnant women around — acted strange. Silas pulled on his clothes without a word and drove four hours through the dark. It came to nothing.
Things like that happened almost every day.
Yet he never stopped. Never slowed down. He'd chase any lead, no matter how thin, running himself ragged on the strength of a stranger's word.
People told him to take it easy.
He shook his head, jaw set.
"I can't let a single chance to get justice for Julia slip through my fingers."