"Kim Wilkins - The Autumn Castle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wilkins Kim)

"No. She was probably raped and tortured and killed. Poor little kid."

"Maybe you never got to process that trauma because you left Berlin behind. Maybe being back here is
stirring it all up again." He patted her shoulder. "You'll be fine. It'll pass in a few weeks."

"I hope so."

"Want me to bring you a couple of painkillers?"

She propped herself up on her elbows. "Yeah, and a notebook and a pen."

Jude kissed her again. "You wait right here."

A few minutes later he returned. She dutifully swallowed the two tablets he held out for her, and took the
notebook and pen.

"What are you writing?" he asked.

"I'm trying to solve a mystery."

"A mystery? About the little girl?"

"No. About a crow."

He shook his head. "I'll leave you to it. I might go wait in the studio with a paintbrush in my hand, see if
the Muse drops by." He backed out of the room and closed the door. A couple of moments later, she
heard the apartment door shut behind him.

Christine rested the notebook on her knees and wrote, "May Frith."

Then underneath she listed as many things as she could remember about the little girl: her hair and eye
color, her father's name, her mother's name, the colors of her bedroom, her favorite toy. And then it
started to emergeтАФever, ever faintlyтАФthe memory of the black wings and the window andтАж No, it was
gone again.

"Crow," she wrote, and circled it. The painkillers were starting to do their work, and she grew
heavy-limbed and sleepy. She put the notebook aside and closed her eyes, trying to force her mind down
long-locked corridors of memory. As she drifted to sleep, a flash dashed through her mind and
disappeared: wings beating, a little girl shrieking, the wide world outside a window.

***
Christine woke in the dark. But not completely dark. The blinds were still open, and the light of a nearby
street lamp cast a pale glow on the bed. She was disoriented: still in her work clothes, not under the
covers, blinds not drawn. Then she remembered taking the painkillers. Her watch said it was eleven
o'clock. Jude was not asleep next to her. She rolled over and eased herself out of bed.

"Jude?" she called, opening the bedroom door a crack and peering out. Not there. Probably in the studio
still, finally painting something.

Her back felt marginally better. She stretched up, felt a twinge. She carefully put one foot in front of the