Devin's life had been a pattern that shifted like shadows of a maple tree blown by the wind. It moved with the money and the money came from the crack and the weed.

Devin bought and sold like the best brains in the corporate empires that made up Detroit. He bought low, sold high, ran fast, shot faster.

He'd had nights where he wondered what would have happened if his mother had not been murdered, had not been alone, had not had him. He wondered if Joseph had the devil in the corner of his eye all the time. He wondered how he'd learned to cope.