“You’re the good girl. The quiet one. The do-gooder. What’s there not to know?” Reverse psychology. It’s clumsy and stupid, but when her eyes meet mine, I think maybe it’s not so stupid. “Perfect Ms. Winslow,” I taunt. “Maybe you’re not the only killer in this truck. How about that?” I snort. “Did you forget to feed your goldfish one time?” Abby stares out at the taillights of the car up in the distance, thoughts heavy, lips zipped. Yeah, I know how to wait.
