No, this wouldn’t do. She couldn’t leave Michael out in the snow, even if she did hate him. Sure, she’d told him to drop dead a number of times when their marriage had crumbled, but she had no desire to be responsible for his demise. Of course, he would probably want to do her in when he woke up and found a lump on his head. A thought nagged her. What if he really was hurt? Just because there wasn’t any blood didn’t mean he wasn’t seriously injured. He could be hemorrhaging inside his skull, which was even more dangerous than external bleeding. What if he was out there dying in the snow this very instant? She reached for the doorknob just as someone knocked. She jumped back, startled at first. So, he wasn’t hurt after all, the dirty snake. He’d probably pretended to be, just to frighten her. She had an urge to hit him with the poker again. Gritting her teeth, she jerked the door open.
