SEVENTEEN
“ANYTHING?”
She already knew the answer. His brow had been pulled down when he opened the newspaper. In the three or four times he’d gone through it, his scowl only darkened in hue.
“No,” he said, closing the newspaper to toss it into the backseat of the truck.
“It’s been five days,” she said, reluctant to say what had to be said. “They’re dead, aren’t they?”
“We don’t know that,” he said, nodding ahead. “You want me to go in here alone?”
The Rotunda loomed large before them. This was it, the moment they’d find out if she was right… or not. After five days on the road, the pressure was immense. She had to be right.
“I can do it.”
“No need,” he said, grabbing for the doorhandle. “I’ll just be a minute.”
For a brief moment, she considered jumping out after him and followin
