Miss Sharpe was this close to tipping her tea over his big stupid head. She knew that look. Her father used to do it too – more and more after her mother had died. It was a look that said she was acting irrationally, but that he wasn’t going to argue with her because acting irrationally was what women did, and that sanity would only be wasted on her.
Miss Sharpe controlled her urges, and turned her back on Dave Marshall.
She wasn’t being irrational. A young woman – just like her – had been murdered and dumped in a lay-by like a fast-food wrapper, and a grown man thought she had it coming.
Wasn’t that reason enough to be angry?