For all its low-slung sportiness, the Porsche handled the snow-slick roads out to the property very well, and I began to revise my initial estimate of its impracticality. The problem was, since Connor didn’t have to drive all that slowly, we got there a lot faster than I would have liked.
He downshifted as we approached the driveway, hand white-knuckled on the gearshift. “Angela, I don’t think I can do this.”
I’d halfway expected this reaction. How could I not, when we were about to go in Damon’s house and, in Marie’s words, “put him out of his misery”? I licked my dry lips, then said, “All you have to do is get me in there. I’ll do everything else.”
“And what will you do? Do you even know how to fight him?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know now. But I will when the time comes.”
“That’s…crazy
