The afternoon sun hung low over the western ridge of the Upper District.
Geney Ford sat in the rear of her sedan, her hands clamped tightly over her handbag. The knot of anxiety in her chest had been tightening since midnight, slowly metastasizing into dread. Holino was a wild, irresponsible playboy who routinely disappeared to entertainment places for days, but he possessed a strict, almost religious rule regarding his communication line. In years, Holino had never once switched off his device, let alone left it dead for sixteen consecutive hours. Not since last night, when he had taken that bottle of prenatal regulators from her hands and stormed out to taunt his brother.
"Driver," Geney commanded, her voice cutting sharply through the quiet cabin. "Reroute through the secondary access road. The lower mountain lane."
"Understood, Madame Ford."
