CHAPTER 115
He stood at the farthest window, his blue eyes unreadable. As her mother pulled out of the parking lot, he raised a hand in farewell. Calla woke to a knock on her door. "Sweetheart?" Rosalind asked, tentative. "Cooper's here to see you." She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. " Now? " "It's two in the afternoon," her mother added, raising an eyebrow. Calla blinked. The room did look unusually bright. Sunlight slanted across her duvet, casting bars of light across her face. She shielded her eyes. "Oh. Okay. He can come in." I haven't slept this late in years, she thought, bemused. Though it was really no wonder. Yesterday had been an exhausting affair—the murder, the interrogation, the sour implication that her oh-so-innocent neighbor might not be so innocent after all...
- Writer
