Over the next few days, Hank went through hundreds of cities and small towns in Kentucky, Tennessee, Arkansas, and Oklahoma with no experience of feeling that here could be my new home, something he kept hoping for. One night in West Texas, just outside of Marfa, while sitting over a plate of barbecued chicken and baked beans, he tried reviewing all the decent locations he had gone through, to figure out why they weren’t connecting for him. He began to realize that the one thing they all had in common was that even though he was now a long way from home, none of these places felt far enough away from Boston and its mob of bad guys.
He pulled out his map, saw that he and Donna had once circled San Diego, a place that now looked very enticing, given that it was about as far away from Boston
