Chapter 16
I had reached a crossroads, literally and figuratively. As my car idled at the stoplight at the intersection of High and Cross, I knew what I should do. I knew I should turn left and drive straight to the Chestertown police station. I knew I should park in one of the diagonal spaces out front, walk up the steps, push through the front door, approach the counter, and ask for Captain Younger. I should tell him we’d found the fugitive. We’d found our father.
But I didn’t do any of those things. I turned right and got out of Dodge as if the posse were hot on my trail.
It wasn’t the posse who caught up with me, though. It was my pesky good angel. Three miles out of town on Route 213, she took control of the steering wheel and forced me to swerve into the parking lot of Dunkin’ Don
