CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
The town of Keysville reminded Mackenzie quite a bit of Treston. It was a small and Rockwell-esque, complete with a pharmacy, white houses with white picket fences, and an honest to God barbershop with one of the candy stripe revolving poles out front. The barbershop and most of the other businesses were closed, though, as it was 8:32 when she guided the rental car down Main Street.
The drive had been constantly under the shadow of looming storm clouds and now that she was slowing on the residential streets, it seemed to catch up to her. Fat raindrops started to hit her windshield—one by one, as if the rain was slowly easing itself into the coming night.
True nightfall was probably another twenty minutes or so away but the storm clouds overhead did a fine job of fak
