He was up in the attic space tossing the junk down the stairs, so he could put it in the rubbish skip he had hired.He looked down on the old trunk his...knee had collided with and wondered what was in it. He wiggled the strange old lock, and it clicked open to his surprise. He lifted the lid, and it was full of old clothes, shirts, pants, fine leather jerkins, a heavy coat and thick socks. Each set of clothes was laid out as if ready for the dayHe looked more closely at the clothes. ‘No, ‘ he. " It worked. She settled.Lack of memory was disorienting. It was like my mind had a physical void spot, a dark empty hole where everything was hiding from me, teasing me, frustrating me. Who was I? Was I a killer? All evidence said yes. But how did that connect to Bianca? Not knowing was almost physically painful.Wait! Stop fretting and think!I was approaching this problem all wrong. My memory might be blank but my mind wasn't useless. I could make some reasonable assumptions. First, how did I. More

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