His mother smiled in return, an act that brightened her thin face. “Michelle said that your mom was a suspect because she ran away, visited some boyfriend of hers and then ran off into the night. . She refused to accept her fate, but what is it that she could do about it? Night after night she invented alternatives. Her teeth were chattering so hard that she had to clench them for fear of biting off her own tongue. She was not squeamish—although the sight of the sergeant’s ominous preparations had severely tried her fortitude—but Kimble’s white face plagued her conscience. Here one might live the life of golden days. The blast shrieked, as if exulting in its wrathful mission. I want to put myself into your hands.
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