Mark tapped the steering wheel. He blew out a deep breath. Blew out another. He wiped the beads of sweat gathering on his upper lip. It wasn’t summer anymore.
He watched Dennison drive away. Those two prisoners were the unsuspecting troublemaker kind. They didn’t drive loud vehicles. They didn’t throw loud parties or invite high school kids and give them booze.
They might even be more dangerous than the usual suspect who walked into a shopping mall with a g*n and opened fire on the shoppers loitering there. Those people were dangerous—horribly so. Or the terrorists that were always in the news—which made them seem very dangerous, but very far away and not in the local park.
The guy was for sure the man Mark had seen using a walker. Where had he seen him from time-to-time? Post office pr
