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couldn't stand duplicity or secrecy. D.J. had just proved herself adept at both. |
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Chris threw himself down on the bed and glanced around the room. Franklin had deposited the computer and Chris's suitcase in the corner of this room. A hint from the good doctor? |
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Separate roomsseparate beds? No problem there, Dano. You don't realize who you're dealing with. |
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Chris narrowed his eyes, really seeing the room for the first time. This must be her father's room. In shades of brown and navy blue, the decor emitted a masculine air that would have revealed the owner even without four stuffed deer heads on the walls. The shiny black eyes of the mounted deer stared at Chris, a haunting reminder of the thin thread separating life and death. D.J. could have been just as dead as those deer if the bullet had been any closer to a vital organ. His parents had been alive and happy minutes before they were dead and gone. So what did that all mean? Should he live his life as though every moment was his last? Damn the torpedoes and full speed ahead on the pleasure? Or should he stick to his beliefs and wait, forever if necessary, to have the perfect life he'd dreamed of for so long? |
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Chris's gaze drifted back to the mounted deer, and he closed his eyes against the sight of death. He closed his mind against the philosophical ravings never far from the surface of his thoughts. Weariness washed over him. Even without a morning spent splitting wood he would be exhausted. After D.J. had fallen asleep the night before he'd lifted her onto the couch and stretched out on the |
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