CHAPTER 19
Breathe. She couldn’t breathe. Her counselor had given her an assignment. There was something she was supposed to do when she felt the start of a panic attack. She was supposed to look around. Find... Find what? What was there to find while she was stuck in a cramped conference room with a deranged father who was ready to blow the brains out of anyone who got between him and his son? What was there to listen for when all she could hear was the droning on of Diane Fiddlestein’s nasally voice as she talked about Woong Lindgren as if he was some nameless patient and not the spunky, mischievous little boy Kennedy had been watching for the past two days?
Woong. Too curious for his own good, asking more questions than Tom Cruise in A Few Good Men, but sweet enough to work his way in
