CHAPTER THIRTEENI spent much time in my room during those days of early spring. I thought about what had transpired and where to place blame. The window shade was always drawn. The darker hours were of greatest concern, when my imagination was in complete control of perils in the night. I often went to the window during daylight hours. I parted the blinds just enough to peer out into the backyard. All things appeared ordinary. The small tractor might be parked at the garden gate, and patina-clad Cowboy inched back and forth atop the cupola, encouraged by a tiny breeze. It often pointed southeast toward Jolly’s pond and the vacant pigpen across the way.
Mom departed for Singapore on the following Sunday, just as she planned. The black limo arrived and Alexandra stepped from the back seat,
