Chapter 10
Beth felt nothing. All she knew was that it was morning and she was alone. Alone in Abbott’s apartment, where he had brought her after…what had happened with Mark.
No. She didn’t want to think about that. Didn’t want to remember. What good would remembering do? Perhaps it wasn’t even real, as she had suspected all along. She would need more proof, need to see again what had happened.
She needed to hear the words from someone official.
She looked around the little room again: gray-painted brick walls, a mirror with a diagonal crack, threadbare plaid furniture. The bed where Abbott had slept the night before, thrashing and turning in his sleep, chattering and laughing, screaming. She had never seen such a performance. By morning, the bedclothes lay in a heap on the floor, pull
