When he pushed the doorbell he expected it to make a scream, like on an old TV show, but all he got was a perfectly normal ring. And when the door ope...ed, he was surprised again: A pretty young woman with a figure and a big smile stood on the threshold, and she smelled like cinnamon. Herb took off his hat. “Pardon me, Miss, we’re looking for your…mother?” The woman’s bangs bobbed when she shook her head. “No, you’re looking for me. I’m Nancy Brookwood. And you must be Mr. and Mrs. Beaser. Come. Claude lifted the belt from the table, the heavy weight of the buckle swinging.Nor was it her fixation with that boy.The soft, authentic leather in hand warmed at his touch, and the approaching violence brought a degree of cold peace to him.Or even his ever increasing frustration with her obstinacy.He swung, the familiarity of the action bringing comfort. The steel buckle hit her left breast and inspired a muffled scream. Her stomach next; then a row of temporary welts along her rib cage. Her. More

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