lized that I hadfallen out of bed at some point and had crawled across the room in mysleep, that I was on my h Jerry Burnham was the little redfaced man who'd been such a help with the colonel the first night Eveline got to Paris. Onthe fridge door were words her daughter had already assembled from herMagnabet bag: KI and MATTIE and HOHO (Santa Claus, I presumed). The birch had somehow become Sara Tidwell: it was Sara'sface growing out of the criss-crossing branches and shiny leaves.
There was no sense of reliefattached to the memory, that thank-God-it-was-only-a-dream feeling youget after a particularly nasty nightmare. The white-haired bitch waswearing a ring, and the stone cut me behind the ear. I just got off the phone with John Storrow-- Really? How long had I been on the second floor, anyway? I looked at mywrist and saw nothing but a pale circle. JANEYThe trip to Mexico and the private car the Mexicangovernment put at the disposal of J.
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