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Kindle Edition
First published June 30, 2020

Three stories up. What to do?
Break the glass and be caught? Bedlam.
Stay here and be caught in the morning’s light? Bedlam.
Jump and be caught dead? The notion deserved Bedlam. Wait for the ghost of my dream or one of Hamlin Hall’s to come and float me down? Yes, Bedlam again.
If my mother were alive, she’d put a root on Markham so that bad luck would be his and only his.
But West Indian magic nonsense was as bad as English ghost lore, and none of it could explain why Markham kept winning—he had my house, my son, my dignity.
Hand over hand, toehold after toehold, I lowered myself until one boot hit the ground and then the other. I drew my arms about me and made sure my heart was still inside my ribs.
But it wasn’t.
It was in a dingy crib, three stories up.