CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
Mackenzie was coming to realize that every back road in and around Kingsville looked exactly the same; they were nothing more than long winding stretches of blacktop that meandered through the country. They were almost identical with the exception of a break in the trees for fields or smalls trips of land where houses had been thrown up. Riding in Tate’s passenger seat, she almost felt like she was on some strange roller coaster taking her over dips and rises into unknown places.
Jimmy Gibbons lived down a lengthy gravel drive where a few other houses stood off of the road. The entire stretch of land looked like a trailer park, only with lower-class houses instead of mobile homes. Slanted porches, roofs in need of some work, ancient air conditioners hanging out of ding
