Penny felt better in his arms. Could he really protect her from Alfred with a gun? He might get shot. She would never forgive herself for that. *** Alfred was feeling remorse about giving up his car. He loved that car. He should have been able to figure out a way to keep it. If only that man hadn’t tried to pull a gun on him. Or had he? Alfred didn’t remember actually seeing a gun, only a glint of metal. And then blood. Lots of blood. He hadn’t meant to shoot. He thought the safety was on. Oh well, no use crying over spilt milk, as his grandmother used to say. He had slept in the car on a side road, not trusting himself to register at a motel. The police knew his name. He could register under an assumed name, but he had never done that before, and he might make people suspicious by his nervousness. And, of course, his California driver’s license would give him away, if he had to show it. The inside of the Falcon wasn’t as large as that of his Fairlane. He had been uncomfortable and cold while trying to sleep, even wearing his jacket.
