“What about your sister?” “Personality-wise, Fran’s the same as Bardot,” Gretchen said. “Her little clone. But no disorders.” Gretchen paused. “Though that seems unlikely given our family. So I’ll amend that to ‘none that I know of.’” “Is she still in the area?” “In Waltham, married with two point five perfect children,” Gretchen said. “Living off Bardot’s trust fund and whatever the bland potato she married does.” Marconi pulled out her notebook, jotted down God knew what. “I take it you’re not in contact?” “As last I checked, hell had not frozen over,” Gretchen said. “That would be no.”
