‘You don’t mean to say she’s here?’ ‘Was,’ Gerald corrected. So soft. . “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. The turnkey looked round the next moment, but the manoeuvre escaped his observation. Her heartbeat raced, her limbs turned to water, and it was only by a miracle and the strength of the arms that held her that she remained standing on her feet. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. Capes most trying. He tasted like cinders and ash, but not of smoke.
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