Chapter 6

It all fit in a small suitcase and a small traveling bag. They were both filthy, battered, and had a dry, almost rotten smell she couldn’t place, but they would do. She’d considered going through Elsie’s wardrobe and vanity—the woman had expensive tastes—but dismissed the idea. She knew how hard traveling was, and she didn’t want to weigh herself down with anything unnecessary.

Martha looked around the bedroom and sighed in regret. She had visions of the house in five or ten years, nothing of the former mayor and his wife remaining, as her future children raced up and down the stairs. It was a simple fantasy, but a powerful one. She didn’t want to be a prostitute the rest of her life, and she hadn’t been lying when she told Paul that he was the finest man in Dead Man’s Corner.

They both could have been happy.