Chapter 7
Around the truck, overgrown brush caused the grassy-dirt road to narrow and eventually vanish. Honestly, it looked more like a fern-covered pathway at this point, half-concealed by the woods around us. Thickets clicked and clacked like a ghoul’s fingernails against the mirrors and the steel sides of the truck; Harry didn’t seem to mind, which I mentally questioned. Although the truck wasn’t new, and sported a few scrapes and bumps here and there, I couldn’t understand why he agreed to travel down the pathway, adding more.
He stopped the truck surrounded by three boulders and a graveyard of old oaks to the right. Next, he turned off its engine and relaxed behind the wheel.
Before I climbed out, he asked, “Can you hand me the paperback in the glove compartment?”
I did as he instructed. “Do you like Robert Riley’s books?”