The young man pulled a folded envelope from his jacket pocket, touched it to his lips, and used the metal trowel to dig a small trench in the wet earth beside the stone. Daniel opened his truck door and stepped out. He walked silently across the damp turf, his shadow lengthening behind him in the rising sun.
“Move away from my daughter’s resting place,” Daniel said, his voice terrifyingly quiet. The young man spun around with a gasp, dropping the trowel. He scrambled backward in the mud, his eyes wide with sheer panic. He looked impossibly frail, his skin paper-pale, dark purple shadows sunken beneath his eyes, his frame thin and fragile beneath his jacket.