Wearing wraparound sunglasses even though it was starting to
look like rain, she came down the front stairs, wobbling just a little. She
ignored the cement path leading to the street, cutting across the bare-dirt
yard, straight for Ingrid, who for some reason was rooted to the spot..
Cracked-Up Katie walked right past Ingrid, missing her by inches
and maybe not noticing her at all. She took a few steps down the sidewalk, then
stopped suddenly and turned around.
"You lost?" she said. She had a deep, ragged voice, like a heavy
smoker or someone who'd just finished screaming at the top of her lungs.
"Not really," Ingrid said.
Cracked-Up Katie took off her wraparound sun-glasses and gazed
down at Ingrid. She had pale irises, blue or green, but so light there was
hardly any pigment at all. The whites of her eyes, on the other hand, had
twisted red veins running all over them, so the effect of her gaze was painfully
"You look lost to me," she said. She took a step closer, gazed
harder. "Like totally."
A Man Called Intrepid author dies aged 89(Dec 03 2013) William Stevenson, a journalist and author who drew on his close ties with intelligence sources to write two best-selling books in the 1970s, A Man Called...