. . “That is where I got confused,” he said. “Before you do anything else I should advise you to secure those charred fragments of paper from the grate. She asked the inevitable question, the one she knew Michelle was waiting to field like a quarterback anticipating the pass. Heliers. She told him the story of her parents, her marriage to Iovelli, the loss of her baby, the kidnapping after the miscarriage. She made herself serenely unaware of his existence, though it may be it was his presence that sent her by the field detour instead of by the direct path up the Avenue. .
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