I lived in a small town called Felicity about seventy miles south of the Big City. My house was an older house with a veranda and a big yard.To my sur...rise she said it was exactly the kind of house she thought I would be living in. Neither the aquariums, the small laboratory, nor the flower and fruit gardens in the back yard surprised her. She was surprised that my kitchen was clean and my bed was made. I asked what she had learned about me by my house. She did not answer but instead went to my. Her earlier shock was giving way to a real appreciation of the full gravity of her situation. She put her head in her hands and cried steadily for an hour, her mind racing in endless circles, until she finally accepted the only possible conclusion. She was trapped. She would accept Mr. Jameson's terms, and she knew what that meant. Mr. Jameson didn't want a simple admission of guilt. He wanted her to tell the story of what she had done. He wanted details. He had trusted Jennifer as he trusted. More

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