Chapter Twenty-Eight
The front of the building looks brand-new, a smooth white exterior that might have been built five years ago instead of a hundred. Maybe they tore out the entire prison and made something new. That’s my fervent hope as we speed along the smooth pavement.
Damon parks without any sense of fear or subterfuge.
I squint at the dark glass, where I can only barely make out a wide reception desk. “You aren’t worried he’s going to… shoot at us?”
Though even as I say the words, that doesn’t feel like Jonathan Scott’s style. There are many terrible words I could use to describe him. Monster. Sadist. But he isn’t a coward.
“Why would he do that? He could have come to Tanglewood if he wanted me dead.”
I glance at him, taken aback by how casually he discusses his death. “So he
