On the night Claire Bennett turned forty-one, a police officer leaned into the window of the car she had been sleeping in for eleven weeks and said, “Ma’am, Homeland Security wants to know where you are.” Until that moment, Claire had believed the worst thing that could happen to her was already happening. She was homeless, nearly broke, estranged from her family, and eating dinner from a gas-station wrapper beneath the white lights of a Tucson shopping center.
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