19
English knocked on the door of the cottage on the other side of town from where he grew up. There were never good and bad sides of East Charlottesville, but where the Donnelly’s lived wouldn’t have been good if there was one. An old truck was up on blocks, the grass was a few inches too long, and the sidewalk to the front door had more cracks than concrete left.
English knocked again when no one came to the door. Karen’s hatchback was in the driveway, but Mickey’s truck was at the local repair shop waiting for an estimate from the insurance company. English knew Karen was home.
He knocked a third time, pounding a little harder and trying to give her the benefit of the doubt. He didn’t let up for a long minute. When he finally did, the door swung open and an angry Karen Donnelly glare
