Kate climbed the stairs from the basement and peered through the peephole. A man stood in front of the door, eyes cast downward. She could see only the thick wavy hair surrounding a bald spot at the top of his head. “Who’s there?” Kate asked. Russell lifted his head and answered, “Detective Russell.” It had been four days since Roger Hicks had walked into the High Street home and attacked George in her sleep. It had been four days since Kate had hit him over the head with an empty vodka bottle and put him in a coma. Kate opened the door and hovered in the foyer, inadvertently blocking the detective’s entrance. It was past noon, but the detective noticed that she was wearing pajamas. The top was the same one she’d been wearing when he’d interviewed her. Sheep jumping over stiles. It looked like she hadn’t changed out of those pajamas since he’d seen her last. “What happened?” Kate asked. “Can I come in?” Russell asked. He didn’t wait for an invitation but slipped past Kate and found his way to the kitchen.
