Okay, more than very much, but we’ve already established that he’s a psychopath, so I’m not going there.
No, I decide, hardening my heart, the real reason I haven’t clawed his eyes out yet is because I need to know what he knows about what happened to my daughter. Then I’m out of here.
Wherever here is.
Staring straight ahead, I ask him where we’re going.
“Home.”
His voice is soft and warm. I glance over and find him looking out the windshield, his hands relaxed around the steering wheel. The setting sun casts a golden sheen on his handsome face, making him look like an angel.
He’s smiling.
“Where are we?”
“Southeastern France. Near the village of Sault, in Vaucluse.” He meets my blank gaze, and his smile grows warmer. “Provence, sweetheart. We’re in Provence.”
We crest the low ri
