“I overdid it.”
I stared at him.
“You thought a convoy at seven in the morning was the sensible approach?”
“In retrospect,” Walter said, “perhaps not my finest decision.”
A voice behind me made me jump.
“Dad. What exactly is happening here?”
I turned.
The man in the doorway was tall, well-dressed, and he was looking at Walter, surprised.
A voice behind me made me jump.
“Timothy, meet Rebecca,” Walter said.
Timothy looked at me with an expression that wasn’t quite confusion and wasn’t quite interest, but something in between.
