Paddy’d be home in no time if we could cast doubt on the whole thing. Ben played down my theories and ideas in the car. Tried to stay calm. “Why are you trying to take this away from me?” I asked angrily. “Eyes on the road, Bronwyn, please.” “But answer me! I have a solid idea on how to get Paddy out of that place, and you keep telling me all the ways it might not work.” “I’m just trying to keep you from being disappointed if it doesn’t go the way you want. Dear God, do all the roads have seventy miles per hour speed limits down here? Makes everyone do ninety.” A few days before, I’d have loved that. Wanted it. Craved it. Keep me safe, clear-minded, clever, sober, and responsible. Yes, Ben. Do that. Make me drive slow. But not now. Coming into New Orleans, no matter which route you take, is always an experience. There is no other city on earth where you can measure a mile by district and be in such completely different worlds. One block the wrong way and it’s like another country all together.
What do You think about The Witch Of Belladonna Bay?
