14
They sat in the back of the car as far apart as Jasmine could manage without opening the door. She stared ahead, eyes fixed on the back of Bintang’s head, while the driver’s eyes remained on the road. Beside her, Howard gazed out of the car window but said nothing. He had reverted to giving her the cold shoulder and Jasmine didn’t like it at all. While she didn’t want to talk to him, the tense silence was making her nervous that he might suddenly break it and say something outrageous in front of Bintang.
She studied the back of Bintang’s neck: glossy black hair meeting taut muscles. Since he’d told her about the horrible way his little sister had been so brutally murdered in front of the family at only nine years old, she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. How had Bintang fou
