“Margot’s eyes swam and burned. The wind gusted her skirt, making it flutter around her thighs. She shivered as if it were January. She’d been so angry at poor Joe. Her anger seemed so silly and shallow now.Guilt twisted painfully inside her at the bleak, cold look on Davy’s face. She’d infected him with the Margot curse somehow, like she did to everyone who came in contact with her. The Goth girl, the pawnbroker, Cindy, Davy. Joe. Poor pigheaded, cheapskate Joe. He hadn’t deserved to die like t...hat. And now Davy had been set up for murder.“He must have been in the diner yesterday,” she whispered.“Who?” Davy jerked, as if waking from an unpleasant dream.“Snakey,” she said. “He must’ve been in the diner when Joe fired me. God. That’s so creepy. I probably served the guy lunch.”“Don’t think about it. Get in the truck.” Davy’s voice had the whipcrack of command, but she was glad of an outside impulse to break the paralysis of her body. She tried to stop shaking as she climbed into the truck, but the shudders were deep, unrelated to cold.The truck roared to life, and Davy pulled out onto the highway.She knew this feeling.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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