“She’s gonna be okay?” “She is, physically.” Becky Pandey sighed as she looked at Cleo. “But mentally? She watched a woman get murdered, Hen. I doubt she’ll ever recover from that.” “Yeah,” I grunted, rememberin’ the way she’d clung to Kate’s hand as she lay awkwardly on her broken body at her feet. Mei was twelve years old, and she’d witnessed a murder.
