5
A black asphalt driveway cut through a lush green lawn to a small house with blue aluminum siding and black shingles on the roof. Sheltered in the shade of a tall oak tree, it was a quaint little residence.
A man in blue jeans and a gray flannel shirt stood at the foot of the driveway with his head poked into the back door of his car. From this angle, it was impossible to see his face, but Anna sensed tension.
She walked along the roadside in jeans and a white shirt with a frilly neckline, her hair done up in its customary ponytail. “Trevor Harmon!” she called out. “Mr. Harmon! I was hoping I could speak with you!”
The man stood up straight.
When he turned to face her, she saw that he was a handsome fellow in his middle years with a dark complexion and black hair that was only start
