There was nothing left now of the selfassured, prosperous man of affairs. He’d borne mention of the woman’s name. It was she who felt guilty as he showed her their bedroom, smelling her perfume, ingesting their psychic leftovers. Nicholas is dead. There is the key. Crouching down, Gerald waited, hands at the ready. . He was beautiful and perfect, his blue eyes smiling at her. "How do I know you are a friend?" asked Darrell. He backed away from her. She longed to own something lasting, anything, but knew her wishes to be stupid. Love lives on a higher plane.
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