In a week, I would run away from home and never go back. Delvin Moorehead was a terrible landlord I had years later, and so to use his name for such a place feels appropriate. I think of it now as what it really was for all intents and purposes - a prison for boys. I was 24 years old then, and had a job that paid 57 dollars a week as a kind of secretary at a private juvenile correctional facility for teenage boys. A lonely young woman working in a boys' prison outside Boston in the early 60s is pulled into a very strange crime, in a mordant, harrowing story of obsession and suspense, by one of the brightest new voices in fiction.
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