Grin @page { margin-bottom: 5.000000pt; margin-top: 5.000000pt; } Fourteen On his way to Tim Fox’s, Jack worked out what he would say. It was an admittedly strange way to approach someone. He would have to say just the right things in order for the man to even let him in his house. And what if Tim Fox is Mr. Grin? What then? He didn't know. Would the bloodshed start right away? Would Tim Fox try and hide the fact he was Gina’s captor? All of these things seemed so abstract to Jack that he had a hard time thinking about them. He walked up the steps leading to the front door and took a deep breath. Reaching out, he knocked on the worn wood of the door. The man who opened the door was not what he was expecting at all. The only pictures he’d seen were head shots, nearly ten years old. Maybe it was the same with every guy, but he pictured Tim Fox as either a threatening musclebound jerk or a totally hideous beast. Someone so pitiable as to make him wonder how Gina could have ever gone out with him or someone so perfectly masculine as to make him think the only reason Gina would have broken up with him was if he was some kind of violent lunatic.
