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Her relationship with John had made her the object of desire for scores of teenage boys who had dared not previously think of her in such a way. The acid of this incertitude had disintegrated his nerve; and in Canton had come the smash. The temperature soared to one hundred degrees, sickeningly hot. There was no sense in creating further difficulties for herself by arguing with the sergeant over her identity. I’ve had a headache all day. 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. Somebody to depend upon her; somebody to have need of her, if only for a little while.
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