CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
1
Angie sat in the truck for the intervening hour watching the shadows slowly stretch as the afternoon grew towards evening, strumming her fingers against the steering wheel, checking the glowing digital numbers every few minutes. At five o’clock she was preparing to begin her part of the plan by tying her hair into a tight bun, then putting on a ball cap and a pair of sunglasses, when she saw the owner of the other truck approaching the boat launch in a canoe. The man never took note of her as he got his boat out of the water; fifteen minutes later she had the launch all to herself.
“Time to roll,” she declared to the empty truck cab.
Angie put a puffy coat that smelled vaguely like Peter’s mother on over the sweatshirt she was wearing to further disguise her appe
