CHAPTER FORTY
On Saturday morning, Avery purged her apartment.
Boxes of photos were sifted through, along with newspaper articles from the time when she’d defended Howard Randall; clothing she’d worn as an attorney, everything from her past life—a life that no longer defined her. She kept photos of Rose, clothing that had special meaning, but most of it went into the trash.
Lights were turned on—all of them, which she’d never done before—and when she viewed the painted walls and the carpet and kitchen, she thought: you bought this place after Randall and right before you became a cop; it still reeks of your misery from that time. Just like you, this place needs to change.
It’s time, she realized, to sell it. To move on. To buy a new place in town, maybe somewhere closer to Rose—if she’
