Thankfully they made it to the next safe house well before the sun went down. It was another stone cottage, and Dylan began to wonder if that was her doing as well. Almost all of the safe houses were the same. Were they supposed to be her idea of sanctuary, of home? She tried to think about where she might have made that connection. The flat she lived in -- had lived in, she corrected herself -- with Joan was a red sandstone apartment surrounded by countless other identical buildings. Her gran had lived in the countryside in an isolated place before she died, but that had been a modern bungalow with over-fussy landscaped gardens dotted with ridiculous stone lions and gnomes. She couldn't think of anywhere else that had been like home.

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