He was thirty-six, six-foot-four, tattooed from wrists to shoulders, usually dressed in black, and played bass in a local band.
If you saw Travis walking toward you in a dark parking lot, you might cross the street.
I sometimes forgot what he looked like
But I saw the guy who fixed my first car for free and showed up to help my mom after my dad died. He’d lived near my family for most of my life.
I trusted him.
My husband, Ryan, did not.
The problem started when my work schedule changed.
I trusted him.
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