THE WOMAN IN THE PHOTO WAS SUPPOSED TO BE DEAD.

Kojo in the backseat, holding the photograph against her chest while air conditioning blasted cold air across her sweat-soaked dress.

She kept glancing at him nervously.

Finally, she whispered:

“Are you angry?”

Kojo looked at her carefully.

“No.”

“You look angry.”

He stared out the window.

“I think,” he said slowly, “I’m angry at people who lied.”

The little continue reading …