70 Strasburg, VirginiaMaggie was trying to explain to Greg why she wouldn’t be home that night. She had expected to leave a message and was disappointed when he actually answered the phone.
“Sounds like a party,” he said.
The restaurant next to the Fairfield Inn seemed to be a favorite even at ten o’clock on a weeknight. Both were near the junction where Interstate 81 met Interstate 66. It looked like truckers and tourists mixed with locals. Had she known Greg would answer the phone, she would have made more of an effort to find a quieter spot.
“It’s off the interstate,” she told him. “Not like we have a lot to choose from.”
She didn’t want to tell him about the Collector or anything to do with the case. She knew she’d get a lecture. But he didn’t seem to care about any of that. In fac
