She made a slow tour of the front of the house without success, and then started back along the rooms behind, dragging open the drapes each time to get just enough light to recognise what was on the walls. Wood, regarding her husband with a glance of vindictive triumph. The air was pungent and leaden. I am going to make a fresh start. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. ‘Certainly you are imbecile. “It makes me feel,” he said, “that nothing is impossible—to have you here beside me.
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