She mewed weakly, “Sebastian? What have you done? Where is Gianfrancesco? Did you kill him?” He crossed his arms. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. Her hair had become so matted that Sebastian had sheared it off, which made her the very mirage of a nubile young boy. “You’re getting too old to put things off, John. It was—in connection with this man Hill. ” Anna had reached the house where she lodged, but she hesitated on the doorstep.
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