“Your mother isn’t even buried yet.”

“Don’t you talk about my mother,” I said.

Higgins reached out and gently pushed my shoulder to one side.

He opened his car door.

“Go on home and rest, Ona,” Higgins said, raising his voice so Betty and Frank could catch every word.

“You’re obviously worn out, and this paranoid behavior is beneath a woman of your standing in our church.”

He got in behind the wheel and pulled the door closed.