She’d gotten home just ten minutes ago herself, after putting in a very long day in the OR with three back-to-back surgeries. "This is it! I have had it with that kid, Deborah."įor a second, Debi closed her eyes, digging deep for patience. Oh, no, you’re not, he declared heatedly. His complexion actually reddened as he shifted, blocking her path to the front door. The simple statement-voiced for a second time-infused her husband with pure rage. I’m going down to the police station to bail Ryan out. When her husband didn’t seem to absorb what she’d said to him, Debi repeated it.
Part of her refused to believe that the conversation she had just had was real, that it wasn’t the product of some recurring nightmare she just couldn’t seem to wake up from.Īnother part of her knew that this was all too real-and something, frankly, she had been expecting even as she’d been dreading it.
If she did, she had a strong feeling the results would turn out to be fatal, if not now, then soon.ĭebi felt almost numb as she replaced the receiver on the kitchen wall phone. Her next words to him had obviously taken him by surprise.įrom the look on his face, it was rather an unpleasant surprise. You’re going where? John Kincannon demanded angrily.Ī high school basketball coach, Deborah Winters Kincannon’s husband had just come home to find her shaken and pale as she was terminating a phone call.
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