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I touched his cheek, but words failed me.Tell him you want to go back to school.
I dropped my hand. Now wasn’t the time. Not when he seemed so high. I didn’t want to upset him.
He threw the car in reverse and we squealed out of the driveway of our townhome. I gripped the seat as he sped down the street. His hand was tight on mine as he raced around cars and blew through two stop signs.
Another driver slammed on the brakes to avoid crashing into us.
“Kyle. Can we slow down please?”
His answer was to press down harder on the gas.
As we rocketed up the ramp of the I-66 freeway, he sang at the top of his lungs.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Blood thundered in my ears. My heart pounded so hard my chest hurt.
He released my hand and reached behind us. I turned to see him yank a blanket off the backseat.
Bile rose up my throat.
A pile of guns big enough for a small army lay innocently on the cloth seat.
Kyle grabbed one. He cocked it.
I stared in horror. Frozen.
Is he going to kill me?
He turned up the radio.
4:37 p.m.
Why am I looking at the clock? Why don’t I do something?
In slow motion, he smiled at me. Turned his head. Rolled down the window. My hair blew in my face.
He lifted the shot gun. Aimed at the car beside us.
Boom.
Chapter Forty-Nine
Holt
One lookat her and I knew the truth.
She was ashen as tears leaked from her eyes.
“I tried to stop it.” Desperation clung to her words. “I tried.”
Trish bolted across the living room to her side and threw an arm around her.
I blocked out the noise from the TV. I remembered that day well. Most of America did. Some asshole took a joy ride through the capital, shooting innocent people as he went. It wasn’t the deadliest killing in our history, but it ranked up near the top of most fucked up.
“Did you—” I couldn’t finish the question. Couldn’t connect the woman I knew withthat.
“I was in the car.”
