There comes a time in a person's life when you arrive at a moment of truth. It finally occurred to me that I had reached mine through no fault of my own, but by circumstances that were far beyond my control. No matter how I tried to look at it, I had to make a decision Do I continue making excuses for inaction and look the other way with blind acceptance? Or, do I take responsibility, and set in motion something that frankly, sort of scared the hell out of me, finding out who killed my husband, Stephen? Even as an author, my laptop couldn't type me out of this one. I had to finish writing this without the benefit of knowing how all of it would end until the very last page. I had one unanswered question. Where was the missing piece that completed my puzzle?
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