jority Leader's office, physically shoved Marge and Betty-Jo out of the room. The heavy door clicked shut, a

vigilance to wane. She dropped her hands from her face; the tears, which had served their purpose

She had swiped it-not the plastic cup, but the source bottle-from Betty-Jo's pocket

dumped the entire bottle of capsules into a thick glass tumbler. She picked up the heavy marble

he window she had shattered that morning. The cold night wind whipped her hair through the jagged opening. Sh

n was likely tending to the aftermath of their earlier scuffle. Carma moved silently across

empty shells of Betty-Jo's blood pressure medication. She then reached into her pocket an

ut off, signaling the end of her window. She glided back to her balcony, slipped inside, and pul

sive glass of red wine. Through the tiny gap in the curtains, Carma watched

scream-a guttural, wet sound. Carma watched the silhouette through the glass as the wo

ct sent her collapsing onto the stone floor, her body convulsing violently among the shar

. Carma, playing the role of the traumatized victim in a pristine white gown,

tered, her teeth chattering on cue. "Abo

r forced the forensics team to return. When an officer finally pulled the blood-soaked silver light

n in a fit of silent rage. She swept her arm across her vanity, shattering ex