’ ‘Precisely,’ Gerald repeated. ” “Sure thing, kid. Something with iron resolve the father had kept hidden all these years in the lonely citadel of his heart. She had to think of something fast, or her reaction would start to make believers out of everyone. I’m not a psycho. He was a square-faced man of nearly fifty, with iron-gray hair a mobile, cleanshaven mouth and rather protuberant black eyes that now scrutinized Ann Veronica. “Does he ever ask about me?” She asked, feeling like a cuckolded old maid. Giving him a wide berth, and keeping her pistol high, she made her way to the door and warily peered through it. . She blew on the hand cannon and grabbed her bag of gunpowder.
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