“I can’t believe he confessed. I’m absolutely shocked!” Jetta hissed from across the table, her light brown eyes dark with anger.
Harbor Newman could only imagine how red her own eyes must look. She and Jetta were seated in a booth near the back of the dimly lit restaurant, finishing up their drinks.
“Well, he did,” Harbor sighed fidgeting with her napkin. Her pale skin around her eyes now dark from crying and lack of sleep. “I’m staying at Beacon Court motel for a couple of nights,” she added. “I couldn’t stay at the house for fear of killing him.” She grinned sadly.
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