Chapter 1

The neon sign buzzed with a low, electric hum that seemed to vibrate right through the soles of my boots. It was 2:03 AM, and the world outside was asleep, but inside *The Blue Plate Diner*, the air was thick with the scent of stale coffee, fried grease, and the metallic tang of old vinyl. I pushed through the heavy glass door, the bell above it jingling with a chirpy indifference to the gravity of the moment. The jukebox in the corner was playing a slow, mournful rendition of "Unchained Melody," the piano notes echoing off the chrome fixtures and the checkered floor tiles that had seen better decades. I scanned the room. It was nearly empty. A trucker in the far corner was asleep over a plate of scrambled eggs, his tie loosely knotted, drool barely visible on his chin. The waitress, a heavy-set woman named Marge with a name tag that had peeled at the corners, was wiping down the counter, her movements slow and rhythmic, like a metronome keeping time for a dying song. And then, I saw him. My father was seated in the booth closest to the window, the one with the cracked vinyl that