I reached behind the passenger seat of Tennyson’s car, looking for the white sheet she’d thrown in for mopping up bodily fluids. Quinn, sitting in the backseat, read my mind and handed it to me. “Thank you.” “No problem.” He leaned forward, pulling ...
TWENTY-SIX The long flight to Pittsburgh gave me a chance to do a lot of mental preparation. I wore my headphones, but never turned on my iPod. The plane was dark. Dad leaned his seat back and pretended to sleep, probably so I wouldn’t ask him questions he couldn’t answer.  ...