Chapter 22
In the morning it stopped raining.
The sky was finally cloudless for the first time in days. Even at the horizon, there were no visible scraps of clouds. Mary Grant – dressed in black, like a widow, with a simple and elegant skirt, blouse, coat, gloves hat, and flat shoes – should be absolutely happy; the tragic events she witnessed were only a painful past. It was similar with rainy weather.
Let bygones be bygones.
The nightmare was over, too, though it would haunt her dreams for many, many long nights. Bureau agents, Shaw and Perlman, vanished without saying a word. Likewise, three other Boston police officers, as well as this strapping but the limp criminal and his Irish friend. All Mary Grant’s thoughts oscillated around what had happened to them, but she couldn’t do any
