At sixty-three, I believed I had already faced every kind of fear life could offer.

“Grandpa…”

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Sophie sat in the back seat, unusually quiet.
Her face was pale—too pale. Her hands were clenched tightly in her lap.

“What is it, sweetheart?” I asked.

Her voice trembled.

“Can we… not go home right now?”