She kept him talking all the way to the doorstep of the Beck's home, a small 1970s brown split-level in the old part of town. I was being stupid. Everett’s gaze dropped to the papers in his hand. ‘Yes, a very sad story,’ agreed the major. He had reacted by pushing her away, disgust and frustration on his face. Did he act to you that day as if he knew what he was doing?" "Not all of the time. Lucy sized up the girl. He would have to sit down here in Canton and wait, perhaps for weeks. She directed him to an old part of the highway, a featureless stretch of old farmhouses capped in snow, with the occasional working silo.
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