Chapter Twenty-Eight
At the shoreline, Teach led the way to the secluded spot where he’d hidden the Oldsmobile, before venturing out to the rotten ferry. The car wasn’t fairing much better, but I couldn’t say that it was any worse for wear than when I’d last seen it. Nonetheless, it fit right in with the scenery as a late afternoon sun painted the graveyard in deep umber, and highlights of Prussian blue danced across the water further out. Some people might consider it perfect mood lighting. To me, with smoke and ash filling the sky and gulls wailing overhead, it reeked of death.
“What’s that?” I asked as we reached the car. A small black rucksack sat wedged in the rear footwell, almost out of sight. I was certain it hadn’t been there before.
“What’s what?” Teach asked.
“What’s that in
