She would take the items with her; bury the items and her bloodstained clothes in one of the many sinkholes in the huge landfill/garbage dump on the south side of town. I suppose it is the mirrors and decorations. Wood, contemptuously. “Cheveney wouldn’t have anything to say about it, as it happens,” he remarked, a little grimly. She passed him silently as she dropped Michelle’s dried corpse into the open clay pit awkwardly, like a discarded doll. If he had nothing to tell her, she had nothing to ask. But for me it doesn’t matter. This time she feinted as his point came up to deflect her own, and disengaging, passed under and cut at his cheek.
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