Unless Laura counted the heat in Paco’s gaze each time he glanced in the rearview mirror or looked over at her. The weather was mild so she wasn’t too miserable. But she was pretty sure the man driving was full of misery. He didn’t want to be here, but his sense of duty obviously trumped any personal feelings he might have. Including how he might feel about her, she decided. “Are we being followed?” she asked after an hour of his famous silence. “No.” “Are you mad at me?” “No.” “So you’re just not a big talker, right?” “Right.” This didn’t set well with Laura. She needed him to talk to her, and not just so she could find out information about him. She needed to hear his voice to keep calm, to keep from screaming in sheer terror, to keep the memory of that man she’d killed out of her mind. If she talked, she could forget how the man’s eyes opened in a vacant stare or how the touch of his death still stained her with guilt and grief. “I need you to talk to me,”
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