About three miles ahead of where we'd gone off the highway, Billy turned down a dirt road that was nearly hidden by patch of trees. He took it slow, bumping us along and keeping a close eye on the Impala in the back.
We ended up in a clearing where a bunch of cars were parked in no particular semblance of order. Billy pulled up to the edge of the grass and turned to us.
“It's on foot from here. If you come with me, we can talk to Ian about your car."
We followed him down a narrow path. A few women passed us, greeting Billy by name. None of them seemed surprised to see us with him. I guess I had expected a little more hostility, a little resistance to strangers. But they only nodded, smiling as they stepped aside to let us pass.
A small wooden hut sat off to the left, and Billy walked u
