Mr. Martin drove his Lexus at a snail’s pace through the fog-shrouded streets. She tapped her foot against the floorboards and shoved her thumbnail between her teeth, knowing she could’ve run faster than this old man was driving. The cops had questioned everyone at the Martin house as they’d huddled under blankets and sipped hot cocoa while Ashton had been handcuffed and shoved into a police car. It hadn’t surprised Willow that Ashton was the primary suspect in Penelope’s stabbing. She’d told anyone who would listen that they’d been together at the pool when Penelope had been attacked, but the cops just nodded and moved on. What had been a surprise was Bill Martin turning up after the cops left and offering to drive Willow to the station. Brayden had protested at first, but when Mr. Martin insisted, he’d let her go. Heat blasted from the car vents, permeating the air with the sharp scent of burning dust, but Willow couldn’t stop shivering.
