CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
THE VERDICT
He stepped into the kitchen and looked at them, bouncing the passkey a few inches up off his left hand, making the chain on the white metal tongue jingle, then catching it again. Danny was pallid and worn out. Wendy had been crying, he saw; her eyes were red and darkly circled. He felt a sudden burst of gladness at this. He wasn’t suffering alone, that was sure.
They looked at him without speaking.
“Nothing there,” he said, astounded by the heartiness of his voice. “Not a thing.”
He bounced the passkey up and down, up and down, smiling reassuringly at them, watching the relief spread over their faces, and thought he had never in his life wanted a drink so badly as he did right now.