didn’t have to. She could still smell the now familiar scent of him on the girl's body in the makeshift grave. Sheppard, faintly. “Do tell me all about it. Capes had the gift of easy, unaffected writing, coupled with very clear and logical thinking, and to follow his written thought gave her the sensation of cutting things with a perfectly new, perfectly sharp knife. I never saw a man who wasn't. When things are at the worst, they'll mend. She propped a pillow against his padded headboard and sat herself into a stiff upright position, legs expertly crossed.
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