She did not open the Bible but laid it on the edge of the bed, knelt and rested her forehead upon the worn leather cover. ’ ‘What son?’ asked Roding. Jack was not half your age when he died. Lucy complied, slipping the tight jeans over her white underwear. But that instinct is severely dampened most of the time. Her father—man of rock—had never needed her, whereas Hoddy, even if he did not love her, would always be needing her.
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