CHAPTER EIGHTJamie was sitting on the veranda when Marvia pulled the Mustang into the driveway. The porch-light was not very bright—maybe she should replace it with a stronger one—but she spotted her son’s form nonetheless.
She unlocked the glove compartment and removed her S&W Airweight. She climbed out of the car and tucked the revolver into the back of her jeans, making sure that the tail of her sweatshirt covered its protruding grip.
Jamie wore his Oakland Raiders cap, black T-shirt, and black jeans. He was a dark silhouette against the gray painted wood of the house. He wore a pair of headphones; the line ran from them to a portable CD player that he held on his lap.
He stared straight ahead until Marvia had climbed the steps to the veranda. Even through the early spring leaves of
