Tabitha is hurting. It’s written all over her. And hurt people hurt people. That’s why I’m not more offended by her jabs. They lack conviction. She’s shoving her feet into black clogs when she scoffs again. “Actually, I have the perfect place for you.” “Is it at the bottom of the lake?” I mumble, toeing my own shoes back on and reaching for my jean jacket. She jerks at my comment, like she didn’t expect me to fire back, but she only misses the one beat. “That’s the dream. Except forensics are pretty solid these days. I’d end up in prison, and then Milo would truly be hooped. Get in your car.
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