She wasn’t wrong about Chad. She just knew it. She was sure about him, despite his perfectly logical explanation. Lisa’s apartment on Cumberland Avenue was only fifteen or twenty minutes from USM, in Portland, almost in the East End. Her commute home took her down Forest Avenue and then left onto Cumberland. She parked in back, in her assigned spot, still feeling uneasy. She didn’t exactly have the greatest track-record with men, budding mass murderers or not. Face it, she thought. Your track-record is downright abysmal. And when your life was filled with these bad experiences, you couldn’t possibly give a kid like Chad Lamm a break. So, knowing this about herself, maybe she should? Maybe she had overreacted? She remembered a trip to the emergency room, sitting in the back seat of the family’s rattly Volkswagen Beetle, her mother in the front seat, holding a bloody kitchen towel to her lip, glaring at Lisa’s father.
Thank you so much to Spencer Seidel, MediaMuscle, and BookTrib for my review copy!