CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE - Carmen’s Knife* 1 *
Roland kept the pedal shoved down flat-hard to the floorboards, the big engine grunting with satisfaction as he rolled through the long night.
He boondocked past the weigh-in station, twenty miles back, catching a back road because they were stickier about tonnage in Nova Scotia then they ever were in New Brunswick. He was about five grand over what they figured a red pinstriped cab-over Pete ought to haul in these parts, but who the hell cared?
He sang with the radio to keep himself awake. He sang off key, but that didn’t bother him. Nothing much bothered him since he left Carmen.
Damn.
He touched the wound on his stomach. The wound that she’d left him with. It was scarred over, but it still pained. The doctor had said the pain was all in his
