She didn’t know how many miles had passed by unnoticed, or when she’d first decided on her destination, her feet on an automatic path, drawn forward as if pulled. She didn’t feel the sun on her face or the chilled breeze that came later when the clouds rolled in, blocking out the bright morning sky. She only came to herself when she once again stood shivering and drenched in front of the gate at Christian’s house, rain pouring down with what seemed like a personal vendetta, cold and stinging and hard.
She was still in the dress she’d worn to breakfast with her stepmother that morning. Her shoes had rubbed blisters on the soles of her feet.
She pressed the button on the black call box. There was a crackle of static, then a voice came over the line. “Miss Jones.”
It was Corbin. He sounde
