Then, the boy went limp again, falling into a deep, exhausted sleep. But he was breathing.<\/p>\n
Arthur sat there, holding a stranger\u2019s child as the clock struck midnight, signaling Christmas Day. He didn\u2019t know who this boy was, but as he looked at the bruises on the boy\u2019s wrists\u2014bruises that looked suspiciously like finger marks\u2014Arthur Sterling felt a familiar fire ignite in his belly. The Sheriff was back on duty.<\/p>\n
Chapter 2: The Wolf in Sheep\u2019s Clothing<\/strong><\/p>\n
The plow trucks didn\u2019t make it up Arthur\u2019s road until 10:00 AM. By then, the storm had broken, leaving the world buried under three feet of pristine, deceptive white.<\/p>\n
Arthur had spent the night awake, feeding the boy spoonfuls of warm broth every hour. The child, who Arthur found out was named Leo thanks to a stitched label in his parka, was awake now but silent. He sat on Arthur\u2019s sofa, staring blankly at the wall, clutching the wool blanket with a death grip. He wouldn\u2019t speak. He wouldn\u2019t cry. He just existed.<\/p>\n
When the flashing lights of the State Police cruiser finally appeared in the driveway, Arthur walked out to meet them.<\/p>\n
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