She used to lock Jordan and Josiah in the closet when they were toddlers. “Why not?” he exclaimed. He haunted a state between hectic dreaming and mild delirium, and she found herself talking aloud to him. Lucy sprinted to one side to avoid the crash and grabbed at Rhea’s solitary patch of yellow hair, which ripped out loosely in one decayed piece like strands of rotten corn silk. . . Sheila knew that the Eat & Shop on the corner of 53rd and Oleson was a flimsy front for an all-in-the-family whorehouse. ‘Gérard—’ ‘What now?’ he asked, rife with suspicion.
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