B. Her mind invoked her husband, who she imagined lying dead in a ditch somewhere, tortured and killed by brigands or perhaps eaten by creatures like herself, a fate he actually deserved. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. ‘No one would credit that you are three years older than I. She crept into the living room and turned off the set, adjusting Cathy’s blanket which had fallen to the carpeted floor.
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