CHAPTER 15
I walked out of the school building feeling dazed. It was essential that I avoid Arch: my eyes would give me away. Guilt riddled my conscience like bullets. The letter might as well have been burning a hole in my purse. I couldn’t read it yet. I needed time to think and I didn’t have it. My cleaning assignment on the other side of town was due to start in ten minutes; at noon the owner was having a bridge party.
Waves of children were already surging into the school building. With a growl of defiance, the van started. I slapped it into first gear and took off.
The job was in Aspen Hills, a residential area dominated by boxy contemporary houses that looked as if they’d all been popped ready-made from ice cube trays. In the assigned house I put Laura’s letter to my son, her “sp
