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"Yes," Mom whispered.

Amanda got to go home for the rest of the day.

Amanda had gone on with her life, but Cindy stayed frozen in time, always young, always innocent and always
smiling. There were days when Amanda didn't think about the tragedy. There were other days of pure agony.

She could still picture Pepper's mother from local news coverage, being led off by officers. Amanda's mom and
dad discussed the case when they thought she wasn't listening.

It was all so clear now. Pepper's dark circles, her tattered dirty clothing, the way she ate every morsel on her
lunch tray and especially her art. Why didn't the teacher ever say anything? She had to have some suspicions.

Amanda rubbed her stomach where her own child was growing and prayed to God she didn't posses the evil
needed to commit such a vile act against someone so innocent.

Cindy's grave seemed harder and harder to find with each visit. She never got a head stone. Amanda pulled the
weeds and cleared the debris that accumulated in between her visits and then placed the bouquet of wild flowers
on the marker. Some of the letters in her name were missing on the marker, worn away by weather or torn off
by vandals. Amanda searched on the ground for them but she knew they are long gone. She's looked for them
for years.

She whispered her name over and over as the tears rolled down her face. Cynthia Ann Lasglow. Her finger
retraced the scratches in the metal made by a tiny hand with a straighten paper clip some twenty years back -
P E P P E R.