“I’m sure it’s not,” she said firmly.
Her father had nearly died when a drug trafficker decided to settle the score when Jim Clarke won the case against him. Jim Clarke had been shot getting into his car outside the Durham courthouse. When the hospital called Mrs. Clarke, she’d come to the school to pick up Lisa. On the way to the hospital, her mother had been driving so erratically that the police had stopped her and had to drive her the rest of the way. The next few weeks had been incredibly stressful and emotional for Lisa. Her father held on by a thread and her mother had been a hysterical wreck. Eventually her father had recovered, but he had retired from the D.A.’s office and become a stockbroker—a less dangerous occupation.
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