Ray Plote was most certainly feeling restless, what if he had left the house for the evening? She needed to eat. From the white beach the palms ran in serried rows quarter of a mile inland, then began a jungle of bamboo, gum-tree, sandalwood, plantain, huge fern, and choking grasses. Kevin Chen, Martin’s father, was equally stately, his dark brown eyes bright with the fire of extreme intelligence. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. “Miss Pellissier,” he said, “I am going to take a liberty.
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