She looked at the books on my coffee table, picked one up, and smiled. “Not a good translation.”“No doubt.”“I’m glad you’re doing well.�...�“Are you now.”She sighed. “We spent the last, I don’t know how many months looking for you. Sally and I. You just disappeared. No forwarding address, no email, no phone…”“Unlisted. I don’t like talk.”“You didn’t even tell your mother where you moved.”“She neither asked nor cared.”“She was worried.”“Why? Did she need to chisel a few more pennies from the widow’s. It was her daughter, Shera. Her body had been rubbed down by the same scented oil that Angela often used on Tracey and it was supple and glistening. The younger girl didn’t seem to be in any discomfort and her blue eyes were gleaming. The silk scarves that held her wrists to the bed didn’t seem to be tied too tight, it was apparent to Tracey that this was more for show than anything else. She turned around to see what Angela had to tell her. ‘As I’m sure you’re already aware Tracey, this. I’m already on her, one hand clamped firmly over her neck and the other pulling the towel away from her body. She tries to scream, but the sound never leaves her throat. She is able to breathe, but I’m holding her neck with enough force that she cannot make any sound. I manage to force her to the bed, kicking and fighting, clawing at my arms. I squeeze her neck tighter and growl in her ear, “knock it off. Or else.” This makes her stop struggling as much, and I can feel hot tears running down. That had resulted in a firestorm of fucking with Jane that still made her tingle when she recalled it. She couldn't risk that again.She had to concentrate on work anyway. She spent the next two days in Burlingame, working with Deshona Reed. It was both a stimulating and uncomfortable time, for she kept recalling what April had said, that Deshona Reed looked at her, Laura, when Laura was not paying attention, as if she were 'interested'. What did that mean?All Laura could see was her brusque,.