Chapter 27
Sanchez insisted on driving. Her tanned fingers grasped the steering wheel tightly, turning her knuckles white. Her dark eyes flirted with the rearview mirror as she gunned the white police cruiser away from the side of the road. Trudy, seated in the passenger seat, swiveled her head as they sped past the house, willing the front door to remain closed.
Bruce sat in the back seat, behind Trudy. Rocky, replete in his underwear, sat behind Sanchez, his head leaning against the car’s doorframe. Alice was in the middle of the back seat.
“Do you see him?” asked Sanchez, her dark eyes fixed on the top of the hill.
“Not yet,” said Trudy. “Wait. Yes. I see him; he’s still got his rifle. He looks very pissed off.”
“f**k ’em,” said Sanchez.
“Amen,” growled Bruce.
“Where we goin’?” a
