EPILOGUE
It was another perfect day on the Virgin Island of St. Thomas — sunshine, cloudless blue skies, and temperatures in the low eighties. A soft, tropical breeze tousled the graying hair of Janet Rood, still as physically striking as ever, as she stood high on a hill in her corner of the island overlooking the turquoise waters of the Caribbean.
Ten years had passed. Janet watched an ocean-liner off in the distance drift toward the port city of Charlotte Amalie where hordes of tourists would dock to buy duty free goods — emerald, sapphire, and ruby gems, leather goods, and Cruzan Rum, and explore the island. Some would take the bus tour that would pass a quarter of a mile from where Janet lived.
The tour guide would point in the direction of the house and tell the passengers to look
