eight The westering sun had already dried the stormwater from the bare earth as Rachel pushed through the screen door once more. Dust stirred from rain-pounded craters as she stepped down, then swirled tetchily aside as the hem of her borrowed bathrobe followed to drag listlessly about her bare feet. Rachel paused, her eyes on the ground, and took a breath. Beyond the peeling whitewash of the nearby corner of the villa, s...