The Backdoor She Left

The stage lights come down like molten solder.

I stand in front of the holo-wall with the crystal trophy in my hand and my fingertips are cold against the base. The MC's voice and the crowd noise blur in my earpiece into one long flat tone.

The only thing I see is the face on the main screen.

Xander Shaw.

Five years and the boy is gone. The eyes have gone deeper-set, the jaw has hardened, the suit is the kind of charcoal wool that costs more than my car. There is a plain platinum band on his left ring finger.