How a Fourteen-Dollar Yellow Baby Blanket Brought Down a Regional Director
I opened the heavy driver’s door, slid onto the cracked seat and jammed the spare key straight into the cold ignition.
I turned the key before I’d even pulled the driver’s door all the way shut.
The engine turned over twice, sputtered once and caught with a loud, throaty rumble that shook the steering column.
David slammed open the inside mudroom door just as I yanked the manual garage door release and shoved the gearshift down into reverse.
He came down the two concrete steps into the garage with the heavy manila envelope in his left hand, his face pale under the bare overhead bulb.
I stomped on the gas.
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