" Oh, well I guess I am looking for you then. My name is Rupert Winslow. I'm with the New Jersey Child Welfare Service." OK, come aboard Mr. Winslow."...Tony felt an eerie calm wash over him as the man boarded the boat. "Have a seat sir, we'll talk out here. Can I get you something? Iced tea perhaps?"The man had a slight sheen on his forehead as if he was not used to even the exertion it took to walk the length of the dock. "Why thank you, it's quite warm today." Warm, Tony realized, was. As early as I could I was in the chapel and waited until Father Joseph Moran (Father Joe) arrived. I approached the confessional with a bit of trepidation. Although Father Moran was a relatively young man and was understanding he was still a rather strict priest. I had known him when I was teaching in Minneapolis, he was originally from Baltimore and had known that I taught at St Steven’s, his high school’s cross-town rival. Something he never let me forget. I went in and he opened the screen. More

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