The Inheritors Of Iron And Ash And The Unmarked Graves Of Blackwood Estate

From a tear in the plastic, something pale glinted.

It looked like a bone.

Distant sirens began weaving through the trees. Two black SUVs and a white forensics van came up the driveway too fast, spitting gravel. FBI. Men and women in dark windbreakers emerged.

A woman approached me. Late forties, sharp eyes, no-nonsense haircut. “Ms. Ayana Kingsley?”

“Yes.continue reading …