“What’s going on?” Callie asked as we cruised away.“I don’t know.”“Bull! You know. Tell me,” she insisted.I couldn’t. I couldn’t t...ll her her father was dead. Not here, in a car, on the run. “We’ll talk as soon as we’re safe, Callie. Right now I have to concentrate.”Back roads out of Paris were serpentine and slow. However, there were few, if any, traffic cams; not like the hundreds on the autoroutes.Dawn was breaking when I pulled into a gas station in Ludon, a small village south of Paris.. That should be a much better fit anyway because neither of them has the esthetic sense of a yak. They're both left-brained number crunchers and perfect fodder for the corporate legal world.I suppose I should be grateful for being shunned because moving away from home and working my way through the academy made me grow up in a hurry and establish my independence. Mom, of course, has always had visions of me doing world tours and headlining at Carnegie Hall but she's a timid, submissive woman and. More

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