‘You don’t favour her, bar the black hair. . We always go out to dinner on holidays. They took her fingerprints sitting at the gray metal desk of Officer Nolte, the virile young buck who had brought her in. His grey eyes burned under his shaggy eyebrows. “When did you look up my mother’s records at the Joliet library, Michelle?” Lucy asked, trying not to incriminate herself by sounding confrontational. “Go on,” he said. Without turning or looking in his direction she leaned forwards, her head supported upon her fingers, her elbows upon her knees.
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