Back to New York
Wilmington, Delaware
Frankie spent the rest of the day pissed off. As if it wasn’t bad enough having two funerals to deal with, now he had Borelli crawling up his ass trying to pin Bobby’s murder on him.
I should have never come home. Should have sent a f*****g card and flowers.
Donna walked around the house wailing as if she really loved Bobby—and maybe she did—hell, who was Frankie to judge. His marriage lasted all of a year, and he hadn’t been in a relationship since then that was worth a damn. Good or bad, love or not, Donna made her marriage last ten years. Something to be said for that. A touch of pity shook him, and for a moment he wanted to stay and find out who did this to Bobby. He wanted to do it for Donna if nothing else. Maybe answers would give her peace.
