“Yes,” Clara said, and her voice, which had been so gentle all night for Lily’s sake, took on an edge that cut cleanly through the quiet lobby.

“When I arrived, ten minutes ago, with a sleeping six-year-old and a bouquet of flowers for my late husband’s memorial, Mr.

Thorne suggested I find a cheaper motel down the road.

And Mr.

Vance here informed me that luxury suites don’t magically open up for people who push hard enough.” And Arthur Sterling turned, slowly, toward the two men behind the desk, and the temperature in the lobby seemed to drop by twenty degrees.

Chapter 16 — She Was Dressed Like a Mother