The mother stood perfectly still, almost a statue, open mouthed with a corded house phone a few inches from her face. Her expression didn’t change as she turned to regard the uninvited guest in her home, but she jumped slightly as the phone slipped from her hand and cracked against the tiled floor.
“Oh,” her face creased in confusion. “It’s you.”
Mrs. Wells turned toward the kitchen work surface and poured a glass of vodka with a shaking hand, spilling more than went into the glass.
“Twenty-four hours they say. Call back in twenty-four hours. She could be god knows where doing god knows what, but they won’t do anything for twenty-four freaking hours.”
After downing the vodka, she slammed the glass onto the worktop and wiped her mouth. She sloshed more of the liquid into th
