KALLE
She had to give him credit. He had clearly been terrified during the drive—overwhelmed by how quickly the unusual sights and smells passed—but he'd just white-knuckled the Oh Shit handle on the ceiling and held his tongue. Luckily it was only a few minutes drive into the university town, and she had a staff park at the back of the library, so she didn't have to look for one—or force Gahrye to walk around campus. She had a feeling he was reaching overload.
She pulled the car into the parking space that faced the red-brick behind of the library building, then turned the car off. Gahrye took a deep breath, then winced. But his eyes were open—if slightly wide—and even though he swallowed hard, his hand was steady when he tried to push it open.
"You need to pull that little handle there in the middle," she said, pointing at it.
