Chapter Eleven
I was so angry I was speechless. No, that’s the wrong word. I was enraged. I saw red. No, I saw scarlet. That’s how pissed I was. I wanted to call Hayword and tell him to drop Fern off at the side of the road. But no, no, I couldn’t do anything yet. I had to think, think.
Phil tried to talk to me, but it was as if I couldn’t hear anything except the voices in my own head. How could Fern do this to me, her own mother? Every time I thought we had come to some kind of understanding, she would do something to blow it all up. She burned down our house—or she didn’t. The jury was out on that now as far as I was concerned. She staged a robbery in the restaurant where we were having breakfast to get her then-boyfriend a job. And now . . . this. What was this? Was she trying to get
