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. They weren’t very chummy with one another but Sheila 113 didn’t expect much from a foster daughter as long as she worked hard, very hard, to earn her keep. Entranced, he stared at the name. “Where is she?” He would yell even louder until she was sure that people in faraway fishing boats could probably hear him. ’ ‘The what, miss?’ asked Kimble, frowning. No one would ever know what happened to him. Yes.
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