Michael
Charlotte gapes, stammering…. “But…. I stabbed him. They told me he was dead…”
“He died, yes, but not of a stab wound. He was chasing you, and it sounds as though you gave him a good run for his money. He followed you halfway across town, over the old river bridge, and died nearly two miles away….”
She’s bobbing her head as I speak, Michael eyeing her carefully.
Replaying events?
“…. He chased you through the traffic and went under the wheels of a truck, a twenty-wheeler. It dragged him some distance before the driver managed to stop the vehicle.”
Richly deserved too….
… Terrorising children….
She gawks at the top item on the sheaf I’ve given her, but I'm not sure how much she’s seeing. I spell it out for her.