“Dansk had circled some of these agencies in red ball-point. Romantic Liaisons. Sweet Dreams. Phantasy Chix. Some had come-on lines, like, ‘Meet Miss Foxxy Foxx and get out of that rut.’ ‘See Petal, ripe for plucking.’ In the drawer of the table she found a packet of condoms, a set of old rosary beads and a plastic wallet-insert that contained a series of photographs. She glanced at these snapshots. Dansk was unmistakable in each of them. Some depicted him as a kid, others as a teenager. A woman... figured in every shot. In some of them she had an arm round Dansk’s waist or a hand on his arm. Amanda guessed Dansk’s mother because there was some slight resemblance. Touching, she thought. He carries pictures of Mom. And the beads. She tried to imagine him smoothing them with his fingertips but she couldn’t. She opened the drawers of the dressing-table. The potent aroma of sandalwood emerged from a sachet that had been placed over a neat stack of boxer shorts. She dug around the polka dots and the paisleys, noticing how fastidiously they’d been ironed and arranged.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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