James
What can I do?
The fickle mountain weather makes a joke of the supposed summertime and rain beats against my windscreen, the headlights making a tunnel of light ahead of me as I steer slowly and carefully up the winding road to our home.
But despite the treacherous conditions, only half my mind is on the driving.
Klempner…
Time passes… And keeps passing…
And my nerves are stretched taut, not helped by my guilt over the part I played in Klempner’s death.
If he is really dead…
Juliana…
Will she come back? Seeking revenge… Death and destruction in her wake…
We’re no closer to knowing.
I’ll call Will again.
See if there’s any progress…
Fishing into my pocket, I start to tap in. Then, common sense reasserts itself, and I pull into a layby before dialling.
Stanton is apologet
