“No.”
My turn to laugh. I wouldn’t have expected him to say anything else.
“So, how are we planning to do this? I don’t want to corner Erin in the car. That’s just low.”
“Let’s give her a ride as you promised. That way, we’ll know where she lives, and we can ask her a few questions before she goes inside her home.”
The drive to the two-bedroom apartment Erin shared with five others was…harrowing. She didn’t mean it to be. In fact, she was more upbeat than I could ever have been in her position. She apologised for being tearful—apologised—and confessed that the asshole had struck a nerve with his “bad hair” insult. The pixie cut was a necessity after a bout of stress-induced alopecia, the third time in her life that she’d lost most of her hair. She was one hundred and thirty bucks short
