But I gently took her wrist in my hand. ‘Not yet,’ I said. First it was her turn. I raised her hand to my mouth and kissed her palm. She breathed ...eeply, and a rosy flush formed on her upper chest, circling like a necklace. I examined her hand. The lines on her palms crossed. The primary lines: love line, life line, and head line. One of the minor lines was surely a sex line, but it was hard to pick which one. I slipped my tongue across the life line, and back across the love line. The skin of. It had kind of a dark ring to it. She had to know that he was involved in something. I wondered if she also involved, if so how.I sat alone in my apartment and ran possible scenarios through my mind. They all ended with me stand among the ruble saying, “She was such a wonderful quiet girl. I just can’t believe she could do such a thing. It must be that twisted boyfriend.”When she wasn’t home by seven, I called her phone. It gave me a direct trip to that dreaded voice mail. I knew I had to do. More

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