“Don’t you have a rehearsal tonight with Fausto?” Maxine asked. My head felt more distant than Pluto. I was drenched in sweat, but no longer in the forest: something wrong here. “What day is this?” “Wednesday. You’re in New York. How’d it go?”  ...
I dont believe it yet. But I will. Serves him right, really. No one poaches my wife and gets away with it. But a broadhead through the liver? Jesus, that must have hurt. Ward must have been only fifty feet away when she fired that crossbow. Brilliant choice of weapon: powe...