A tall gate blocked the remaining driveway, leading deeper into the woods. A roaring lion stood on each side of the path. They gave off a dark omen, warning strangers that the Fremont family was not friendly. Even years after my last visit, the lions remained untouched by weather. They were well cared for.
They creeped me out.
“I never liked coming here,” Megan said.
“Me either,” I agreed.
“Do you think Roland’s here?” Megan asked. “He could be hanging out at a bar. Maybe he’s at one in Bristol.”
I shook my head. A month before Stone retired, he had enough of Roland’s bar fights. Stone took advantage of a Friday night by placing Roland in a prison cell. The long weekend must have knocked some sense into him because, according to Stone and Underwood, he hadn’t been spotted in the local
