Mid-morning sunshine poured into the living room, and though the breeze—now resplendent in sharp pine and sun-warmed grass and much more pleasant than the earlier one had been—lifted and tossed the gauze curtains of every open window, the heat in the room was advancing to a doze-inspiring level. The strong coffee that Isaac and Hannah had brought in hadn’t helped with that in the least. Rafe’s eyelids hung heavily with bruise-like semicircles underneath both bloodshot eyes, and Lyle was pretty sure his own looked just as abused. Their lack of sleep was catching up to them.
They’d told their story and, but for a few questions from Vaughn attempting to ensure clarity whenever Lyle slipped onto the side of vagueness, they’d all allowed Lyle to have the floor for most of the telling. When the
