AT EXACTLY 9:14 A.M.
Joyce was driving along the deserted avenue.
Just ahead on a side street, Cribbins checked t
he second hand of his watch for the last time. He swung the heavy Cadillac around the corner. He had a rendezvous with an armored car and a quarter of a million dollars; he had a tommy gun to make sure it all went off smoothly. Everything was timed, everything was planned down to the most insignificant detail-except for Joyce Sherwood and her eight-year-old Chevy, which crashed deep into the side of Cribbins' stolen car.
That's how they met-the housewife and the hoods. And terror took over.
Gör som tusentals andra bokälskare
Prenumerera på vårt nyhetsbrev för att få fantastiska erbjudanden och inspiration för din nästa läsning.
Genom att registrera dig accepterar du vår personuppgiftspolicy.Du kan alltid välja att avsluta prenumerationen.
