CHAPTER EIGHT
Mia’s car idled in front of Carlina’s house.
Sure enough, it looked unchanged from earlier in the morning. No one was there. No cars in the driveway. Shades drawn tight.
She gnawed on her lip, trying to decide what to do. She’d been straight as an arrow, before she became a fugitive. She wasn’t too fond of the idea of adding another breaking and entering charge to her rap sheet.
But even though she was, like she’d told David, a law-abiding citizen, for the most part. . . they still thought she was a criminal. So she could do this.
Finally, she decided to make her move.
She pulled down the street and hurried to the house. She went around to the back door and took out the hair pin she’d brough with her, especially for this reason. After a few tries, she heard the mechanis
