R
obin hated driving Chuck’s old Chevy—the truck was falling apart faster than they could keep up with the repairs. Rusted out from sixteen hard years of traveling on salted roads, the shocks were shot, the clutch kept slipping and would need to be replaced sooner than later, and the entire cab reeked of exhaust from a leak in the muffler system.
Until four months ago, Robin used the Pontiac Firebird, which wasn’t in much better shape. At least it didn’t stink of exhaust, but soon after Chuck got himself fired from Taylor’s, they’d had to sell one of their vehicles. And Chuck being Chuck said it was a no-brainer—sell the damn Firebird. Robin didn’t argue or put up a fuss. There was no use in complaining. It was either Chuck’s way or the highway.
She turned off Heller Hill Road and onto
