“I NEVER THOUGHT I’D get sick of trees.” Heathcliffe was slumped in the back seat of the Jeep with a coffee that was bigger than his head. A glance in the rear-view mirror told him his eyes were underscored by purple smudges and deep circles. He’d had nothing to look at for mile after mile but trees, trees, and more flippin’ trees. Every once in a while the road widened out to provide a lookout point for travelers.
Apparently so they could pull off the side of the road and look at some more dang trees.
If he weren’t so cranky he guessed he’d think the area was pretty. But he was beyond cranky at that point.
They’d spent almost an hour arguing with the chaw-chewing, overall-wearing tow truck driver about towing the car to the nearest town for gas.
He’d refused to just dump a gallon of g
