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carried the rough edge of a local pickup truck。

〃Mrs。 Boulton?〃 barked a gruff voice。 The stocky form of a farmer; clad

in heavy wool jacket; baggy overalls; and aged work boots; stepped from

the cab of the truck and strode toward her。

〃Yes?〃 She didn't recognize the man。

〃Gut a message for ya。 From a fella named Cooper。 Phoned the police

station。 Sorry for the delay。〃 He handed the crumpled paper into Anne's

outstretched hand; touched a callused hand to his cap's bill; climbed

back in his truck; and was gone。

Nervously she unfolded the paper。 The scrawl was nearly illegible。

〃Unavoidable delay。 Mitch arriving Sunday night。 Miles Cooper。〃

With a tired sigh she cast a glance down the empty road。 Another whole

day to wait。 Unavoidable delay。 She wondered what that meant but it

didn't keep her awake that night。 Exhausted from the night before; she

slept deeply。

Sunday brought rain; and a dark; gloomy day。 Anne went out for a walk

anyway; did a crossword puzzle; sat at the window for what seemed hours。

By midafternoon; she was champing at the bit。 With neither cleaning nor

baking left to do; she did some translating。 When she finally heard a

distant car; the dim light of day had long since yielded to night。 But

the growing purr was familiar。 Without doubt; it was the Honda。

Excited; she opened the front door。 It seemed an eternity before he

finally climbed from the car; wrested his bags from the trunk; and

bolted through the rain toward the house。 When he brushed past her

without a direct glance; she knew something was wrong。

She closed the door on the rawness of the night; and turned to see him

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