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Carl looked at himself in the visor mirror and grinned. With his ball cap, new pair of sunglasses, courtesy of the truck’s previous owner, and the T-shirt from the diner, there weren’t enough specific details to lead anyone to think he was anything but a local. The wound on his ear had scabbed over and would only cause one to question if they thought to look and ask. His new truck completed his disguise.
Not taking the time to stay in town yesterday in case the authorities were quick at piecing together what had happened at the diner in Dolores, he had driven past the feed store, the post office, the café, and down the highway in front of Crystal Springs needing to find Samantha. When his search failed to produce that which belonged to him, he found a forest service road and spent the
