And the ones I can answer are the ones I most need to ignore.
Clara immediately starts to beeline for Willow’s room once we leave the garage, but I grab her arm. “It’s late,” I remind her.“Willow is already in bed.”
“How do you—”
“Bambi texted me. Gloria tucked her in with Goodnight, Moon.”
That brings a small smile to Clara’s face. “Oh. Well. Okay.”
“Come on.” I slide my hand down her arm to her fingers and give them a tug. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink.”
I’m wide awake. The sun set hours ago, the stars are scattered across the sky, and most of the household is fast asleep. But I’mwide awake and unable to calm the raging storm of thoughts battering around inside my head.
Who killed Michael Little?
Who kidnapped Clara Everett?
What the f**k was Tolya thinking?
