Chapter 7
“Ol’ Macdonald had a farm E I E I O.”
“Could you f*****g stop that?”
Clarke shut his lips and glanced at the sulking man from the rear-view mirror. He had his arms crossed against his chest and he was looking out of the open window, the cold wind blowing against his already messy mop of chestnut brown hair. From the passenger seat, he could see both of the men without having to turn his body around to face them, making his habit of stalking unknown people much easier to execute.
He shifted his gaze to the other man, the blond one. Judging from the crows feet on the sides of his eyes, he looked to be about 40 years old and lonely. He carried a sad look in his brown eyes as looked straight at the road ahead through the tinted windshield. As if he felt Clarke staring at him, he
