CHAPTER SIX
When she got closer to the Montana-Wyoming border, she shifted in her seat. The next sign said: ST. XAVIER REST AREA- EASY ON! EASY OFF! OPEN 24HRS! RESTROOMS- VENDING MACHINES! NO GAS! CLEAN!
That was the last place Darla McCrea had been seen alive. As she passed it, she slowed a little, trying to get a lay of the land. From the road, it was mostly shrouded by trees, but she could see a stout, stone building, set back far from the road, and decaying wooden picnic benches, nearly swallowed up by long grass. There was a police car parked in front, but other than that, the lot was empty.
Her heartbeat sped up. She started watching the mileposts, her breath coming in shallow bursts. Mile fifty-seven.
Mile fifty-eight.
Mile fifty-nine.
Mile sixty.
She slowed down slightly as
