"Hush!" she said, putting her lean fingers to her lips. Men had tried that before, but never until now had they been quick enough. What's-your-name?" "Shotbolt, Sir," replied the jailer. Dreams of adorable infants danced through her head as she cradled blankets in her arms. It could only mean one thing—that her foster daughter was both a whore and a murderer! When Sheila confronted her about it, it was five in the morning. He might call her wife, but she refused to give him his wedding night. "I have nothing. Michelle took out a Marlboro Light 100 from a secret stash on the inside of her pink neoprene jacket.
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