Читать книгу Northwood - Maryse Meijer - Страница 23

CELL

It worked

sometimes. Blue light in the dark

and your name in black

on the screen hardly ever

showing up. You didn’t need

to call: when you came

I was here.

Every time. Unerring this sense

of pussy and where

to find it.

Strung up in the smokehouse or waiting their turn beneath

the ice—

you know where the bodies are.

You put them there.