"With a sigh she has to accept that what is done cannot be undone. There is no way I can change what has taken place, she thinks, as she makes her way down her own driveway to retrieve the morning papers.
With her frustration level at an all-time high she complains aloud to no one there. "Why can't these lazy kids deliver the papers to the door?" She can't believe what is before her eyes! Well, at least I'm dressed in my track suit and not in my bathrobe like a lot of the women on the boardwalk. I see some of them still have curlers in their hair. Good grief! Don't they care what they look like on TV?
Heather's thoughts are like jellybeans in a jar; too many of them and all piled one on top of the other. TV? Oh, my god, and here I am in my track suit. I should have dressed properly. Better yet, I should have stayed in the house.
She has reached the end of her driveway and picked up from the grass at the foot of her lawn the three newspapers. She picks up all three but unfolds The Fairmont Times first. The headline reads SEARCH FOR SUSAN STARTS THIS MORNING.
That explains the massive gathering across the road, Heather realizes. She begins to make her way back up the driveway toward her house but in no time at all she is ganged up on and surrounded by TV cameras and noisy reporters.
"Mrs, Martin, will you answer some questions for us?"
Unsure what to do, Heather keeps walking toward her house. "I have no comments. I've just come out for my newspapers."
"Mrs. Martin, you gave Mrs. Donnelly the injection that put her to sleep. Why didn't you wait for the police to arrive before you did that?"
How do they know that? Heather quickens her pace.
***
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