CHAPTER NINETEEN
Bourne was not a big man but he was a man, nevertheless. And he was dead. His body, still limp, refused to budge as Bessy struggled and strained to drag him out of the kitchen. Barely able to pull him over the stone-flagged floor, she collapsed on a nearby chair, exhaustion, and despair almost getting the better of her. Until that is, an outrageous thought came to her.
She deliberated for a long time over what she believed could be the perfect solution to her crime. For crime it was. Of that, there could be no doubt. She had struck him with tremendous force, far more than what Bourne’s advances warranted. They’d imprison her and she’d lose everything. Burying her face in her hands, she battled down the tears, but the hopelessness remained.
Outside, at this time of day,
