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Lavinia
and
Francine
walked
away
from
the
police
and
the
sheet
over
the
delicate
thing
upon
the
ravine
grass
.
Lavinia
felt
her
heart
going
loudly
in
her
and
she
was
cold
,
too
,
with
a
February
cold
;
there
were
bits
of
sudden
snow
all
over
her
flesh
,
and
the
moon
washed
her
brittle
fingers
whiter
,
and
she
remembered
doing
all
the
talking
while
Francine
just
sobbed
against
her
.
A
voice
called
from
far
off
,
"
You
want
an
escort
,
ladies
?
"
"
No
,
we
’
ll
make
it
,
"
said
Lavinia
to
nobody
,
and
they
walked
on
.
They
walked
through
the
nuzzling
,
whispering
ravine
,
the
ravine
of
whispers
and
clicks
,
the
little
world
of
investigation
growing
small
behind
them
with
its
lights
and
voices
.
"
I
’
ve
never
seen
a
dead
person
before
,
"
said
Francine
.
Lavinia
examined
her
watch
as
if
it
was
a
thousand
miles
away
on
an
arm
and
wrist
grown
impossibly
distant
.
"
It
’
s
only
eight
-
thirty
.
We
’
ll
pick
up
Helen
and
get
on
to
the
show
.
"
"
The
show
!
"
Francine
jerked
.
"
It
’
s
what
we
need
.
We
’
ve
got
to
forget
this
.
It
’
s
not
good
to
remember
.
If
we
went
home
now
we
’
d
remember
.
We
’
ll
go
to
the
show
as
if
nothing
happened
.
"
"
Lavinia
,
you
don
’
t
mean
it
!
"
"
I
never
meant
anything
more
in
my
life
.
We
need
to
laugh
now
and
forget
.
"
