Chapter Twenty-Eight
The hot afternoon sun had turned the sky to a gray haze stew. In a nearby park, trees undulated and bowed restlessly in the fitful breeze, the silky shoosh of their leaves sounding like distant applause from an outdoor amphitheater. As I waited at a red light, I could almost smell the rain on the verge of dropping from the clouds.
Who would have ratted Knudsen out? And why?
You can run from the past, but it always catches up with you. Had someone from Knudsen’s past caught up with him? Ryan Bledsoe might know, but he was in Ocean City by now.
I could think of people I hated in high school—if I really gave it some thought. I could hardly remember most of them now. If someone from Knudsen’s past had it in for him, he must have done something dreadful—something a pers
