Elena’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Who is this?”
“Someone offering you the last polite warning you’re likely to get.”
The road curved through black pines. In the mirror, the abbey fire turned the horizon into a false dawn.
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Elena’s fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Who is this?”
“Someone offering you the last polite warning you’re likely to get.”
The road curved through black pines. In the mirror, the abbey fire turned the horizon into a false dawn.
At sixty-five years old, I never imagined I would be standing in a bank fighting back tears. Yet there I was. An old plastic…