"Shouldn't we call Rory's father?" Griffin asked as he turned the car onto Bridgewater Blvd.
Angela, anxious to reach Rory, barely heard him, her eyes laser-focused on the road. Why couldn't he drive faster? Maybe she should get out of the car and run, since her apartment was only six blocks away. Time couldn't pass fast enough.
"Angela?" Griffin repeated. "Did you hear me? Shouldn't we contact Rory's father?"
"Huh, who?" she asked. "Oh, no," she said absent-mindedly. "It's fine."
"But won't he be concerned?" Griffin persisted, his mouth drawn in confusion.
"Can you go faster?" Angela asked impatiently, deliberately ignoring him.
"We made it here in under ten minutes," Griffin said. "It must be some kind of record." He looked at her grim face and put a comforting hand on her arm. "P
