Elizabeth studied Beckett’s face, most of it lost in shadow. Even then, she could see the emotion
below the surface. Aversion? Disappointment? She wasn’t sure. “Does Dyer hate him?”
He understood the question. She saw it. “I don’t think Francis hates anybody.”
“What about thirteen years ago? Did he hate anyone then?”
A bitter smile cut Beckett’s face. “Did James Randolph tell you that?”
“Maybe you should consider the source.”
“Meaning James Randolph was everything Adrian was not. Plodding. Narrow-minded. He’s been
divorced three times, for God’s sake. If anyone hated Adrian, it was Randolph.”
Elizabeth tried to work that piece into the puzzle?
1 cut Beckett’s face mean?
2 Elizabeth tried to work that piece into the puzzle mean?
She watched his face, trying to catch the angles. Something was happening, and it wasn’t about the
car. “’Sixty-seven,” she said. “I paid for it working summer jobs. It was pretty much the first real
thing I ever bought by myself.”
3 I paid for it working summer jobs mean?