Back in the 1970's when much of society, including police officers, weren't sure sexual assault was actually a crime – or how to prove it if it was, Martha Goddard invented the rape kit. However, in true – you can get more accomplished if you don't care who gets the credit- form, she allowed a Chicago police sergeant named Louis Vitullo to take credit for it.

She then pushed for acceptance – even getting a grant from Playboy to pilot her program. Once DNA was discovered as an evidence tool in the 1980's the rape kit was instrumental in securing convictions – and exonerating the wrongly accused.

It also proved that some serial rapist profiling theories were inaccurate, and that rape was often a crime of opportunity rather than targeted at specific women or enacted in always the same way.

However, the rape kit was only successful in identifying rapists when it was used and there were
– and still are – problems with kits languishing in police warehouses untested and unimplemented in solving these crimes.

The inventor, herself, declined after her success in marketing the kit. She had been abused as a child and raped on vacation in the late 1970's and she eventually succumbed to mental illness.
We all owe a great debt of gratitude to Margaret Goddard for believing sexual assault is a crime that can be solved as well as to Pagan Kennedy for telling her story.

The narrator cries at funerals in order to support her husband (who does not work and who may or may not be having an affair) and herself. In so doing, she tries to honor the deceased by praising their lives and expressing sorrow at their deaths. In this way, she hopes to add meaning to their lives.

She also searches - and does not find, sadly - meaning in her own life.
It was hard to get into this book. I mean if the narrator doesn't really care if her husband is having an affair, why should I? She brings similar detachment to her other relationships - apparently reserving her emotion for her funeral crying.

I found this to be a sad, unsatisfying read and would not really recommend it.

In recording the history of what is happening in the ghetto, we see not only the daily cruelties, but also stories of love, kindness, sacrifice, and hope.

Shortly after WWI, Robert Barnes builds a mansion to surprise his wife, Anna, for her fortieth birthday. When he tells her he is taking her to Miami to celebrate, she imagines a romantic weekend and a gift of expensive jewelry. She certainly didn't expect to live there – in the swamp and the heat and among the bugs, iguanas, and alligators. She is not pleased. "This feels like the end of civilization as we know it – a far cry from Manhattan and the sensibilities we have grown accustomed to."

While, eventually, Florida grows on her and to some extent so does the luxurious house, she soon finds that the heat, bugs, and alligators are the least of her problems. When they give their first party, a woman falls into the bay and drowns. The police detective thinks it may not have been an accident.

Fast forward to 1941 when Carmen comes to stay with her sister, Carolina and brother-in-law, Asher, the current occupants of the house. Asher Wyatt bought the mansion in the 30's after it had been abandoned and eventually taken over by the state. Many strange and frightening things have been happening there and it is rumored that they are linked to the original owners.

Is the house cursed? Does it have a ghost? Are the deaths (yes more than 1) accidents – or murder?

This is the first book by the author, Chanel Cleeton, I've read and she has definitely left me wanting more. She does an excellent job maintaining suspense throughout – I was never sure who I could believe and who might be lying. I loved the character of Anna and her comments about Florida, her husband, his friends, and life in general.

Overall, I highly recommend this book.