They ended up at Boone’s—part tavern, part gas station, part general store, and just about the only thing on the road between Camp Firefly Falls and Briarsted, the nearest town. As it was a Sunday night and early at that, the place wasn’t too busy. A handful of patrons filled booths or stood around the pool tables. Kansas played on the jukebox in the corner, and as she watched a waitress sashay by with a slice of pie a la mode, Sarah half expected to see Dean Winchester waiting in a corner. But the star from Supernatural wasn’t hanging around with a cocky smile and a willingness to drive her away from her predicament in his ’67 Impala. She’d have to find her own way out of this.
Her actual companion wasn’t the friendly, easy-going guy she’d flirted with at the lake. Beckett’s blue-g
