\" Lucy shook her hand. When she was done she checked the patio door and carried his body into the garage, burying his remains next to the ten year old girl he had raped and killed last autumn, whose bones were starting to show in small areas where the maggots had feasted. " "Who cares if we do?" retorted Sheppard, with a look of defiance. She grew perhaps a shade paler, and she glanced out into the street, where her four-wheeler cab, laden with luggage, was still waiting. It had her raven locks, her pouting lips. He had almost forced himself upon her one night after a particularly bloody raid of a thatched cottage.
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