Unfortunately, the action brought her gaze in contact with the bloodstains marring the ivory tiles of her examination room floor. Now more brown than red, the stains lay as a stark reminder of what had taken place in her home during the night. “I don’t know what else to tell you, Jase.” She shifted her eyes to the sheriff’s deputy seated at her kitchen table, a cup of coffee before him, forearms resting on the pale wood with the relaxed posture of someone who had sat in that chair at that table with a cup before him many times. He had, from after-school snacks, to pizzas after high school dances, to a hundred glasses of sweet tea or cups of strong coffee in the intervening twelve years. He was her friend and had been since kindergarten. Not once had he sat at that table in an official capacity. The crackle of his radio blasted a reminder of his official capacity into the room, the words loud and clear. No one had seen the trucks Ashley described—for what her description had been worth.
What do You think about The Mountain Midwife (2015)?
