Chapter Six
Returning to her rooms, Jessica put the eggs in the refrigerator, next to the others in the egg rack. Her appearance downstairs had been solely to have a moment with the girl – something she expected Miles knew the moment he saw their brief klatch. Now that she had done her duty by the girl, she turned to her own pressing need. Moving to the lounger on her sleeping porch, phone in hand, she dialed the number from memory.
Harry Sontag. She found him home, as she expected he would be, pecking away at his computer, doing those magical things the genius was known for.
“How are you, dear?”
“Jessica?” he came back gruffly. She imagined him talking out of the corner of his mouth with a half burned cigarette balanced on his lip, ash falling on his faded blue jeans.
“I returned
