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CHAPTER 30

Going downstairs, I got Milka out of her high chair and brought her into the front room with me. She jumped off the sofa almost immediately and toddled over to her toy box. I let her go and turned on the TV.

It was right there:

IS THE LEAD SINGER OF DIRTY J. A DADDY?

Yes. Yes, he fucking is, and it’s none of your damn business, you nosy bitch.

Somehow I didn’t think Mark would be impressed if I sent that in to their “What Do You Think?” email address. The screen flicked to their reporter, and the backdrop was my house. I turned the volume up to listen.

“ . . . since his coming out yesterday to carry some groceries in, there have been no sightings of Conor or, indeed, any of Dirty J.”

Carrying groceries in was making news now? Don’t they have anything better to be doing?

“And what’s the general consensus outside the house this morning, Hanna? Is there any truth to the reports?”

“Unfortunately we don’t know. Dirty J’s representatives aren’t returning calls or emails, so one would assume
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