Chapter SevenRuth arrived at the crime scene and gazed at the devastation that had been her home. The area was still cordoned off with wooden blockades. Someone had swept the sidewalk, but the exposed furniture and personal items remained coated with gray dust. The familiar scent of burning coal hung in the air.
She stuffed her gloved hands into her pockets to warm them. Christmas was three days past, and she’d spent the morning feverishly working on her article about the deprivations and sacrifices of the British people during the holiday season. She stopped at the newspaper office to transmit her piece before setting out for High Street.
A large magpie swooped back and forth in the overcast sky, harsh chattering breaking the silence. Its glossy, black head and breast glistened with a m
