
She crushed her toothbrush against the grout in a compulsive fit of penance.

She crushed her toothbrush against the grout in a compulsive fit of penance.
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“We could be happy together.”
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Eileen’s hand shook as she reached for the sugar bowl. Her movements were erratic as she spooned the eighth teaspoon into the demitasse. The inky liquid neared the brim.
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Dr. Maslov sat on his side of the desk, pensive. In 32 years of practice, he was certain he’d never met anyone more deranged than Jill Elizabeth Schultz.
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The officer stared incredulously.
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