What time was it? Through bleary eyes she strained to see the alarm clock on the scuffed wood nightstand. Eleven-thirty. The morning was nearly over and she hadn’t even gone to the Launderette with the week’s worth of dirty clothes. But it didn’t bother her that much, because since Michael had br...
In response she pulled the quilts over her head in a recalcitrant snit. She would stay in bed until she died. Why get up? James had not returned, and Sheriff Morris had brought her no good news. No news at all, in fact, though the sheriff had said h...