Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house. ’ Melusine knew it to be true. Michelle was on her like a fly, asking her questions about her past foster homes she did her best to avoid, pretending to be swamped every night with sudden reams of homework and unable to be reached by phone. Michelle walked up the concrete porch steps, gesturing to Lucy to do the same. Her foster father, Larry, was the hard working son-of-a-bitch type with a disdain for suits. From none of these could Jack ascertain what had become of Thames, or learn any particulars concerning the family at Dollis Hill, or of his mother. “Thank you—for coming,” he said.
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