From this window on the second floor you could see into nearly every room in Colleen Miller’s house.
And if you didn’t have a TV set, it was nearly as good as one. Although you didn’t know what you would get and you couldn’t change the channel even if you wanted to.
You could watch the policemen swarm over the house with their cameras and their brushes and their fingerprint powders. They spent most of their time in the basement, although they appeared in other windows too. And then they went away.
Violet roamed from room to room, crying.
The neighbors came bearing casserole dishes.
Today the woman with the blond hair who had been here so many times before came back, even if there was now no Colleen to visit. She was with the dark-haired detective who had conferred with the policeman.
But none of them knew they were being watched. This house was empty. Had been for months.
That was what they thought.
But they were wrong.