In the eleven years since Liza had left home, the place that had once been regarded as messy or junky had become a scene of utter desolation. Spring had come early to western Massachusetts and to the small plot of land outside Great Barrington that had been in her father’s...
“What’s happening?” she asked. “Nothing much.” Frank shut the door and came on into the office, settling into one of the chairs. “I faxed what information we had on the Tom Ridder murder weapon to the Department of Public Safety firearms expert at the lab up in Tucson. I j...