He reached forward and turned off the engine, then he opened the door and got into the road. Dillon said under his breath, “I’ll sound the horn.”
Myra raised her head. “Roxy… where… are… you… goin’?”
Roxy said, “I’m gettin’ a croaker… you’ll be okay… just you stay quiet.”
A sudden wave of panic swept over Myra. “Roxy…. don’t leave me… don’t leave me… with him!”
Roxy was already walking quickly down the dark road, his shoulders arched as if he expected a violent blow.
Dillon reached up and shoved the light out of her eyes. “You’re goin’ to be okay now,” he said.
Myra crouched back against the seat. “Give me a break,” she implored him. “I know what… you’re goin’ to… to do. Don’t… please—”
Dillon leant forward. “You nuts or somethin’?” he said. His face was glistening. Two deep lines ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth. “What you squawkin’ about?”
“You wouldn’t… treat… me like a dog?” she gasped.
Dillon threw off pretence. “You didn’t give Fan a chance, did you?” he snarled. “You burnt her, didn’t you, you little heel? You took all that dough an’ I wasn’t to see any of it. You know too much, sister—”