44 FOUR’S COMPANY
Peter and Kayten stayed close to the speed limit, and the trip took longer than expected. As the late-day sun reached near the horizon, they pulled into Santo Regás, a small, shabby town with wood frame buildings crowding the main street. Beaten-up cars fronted a bar like nursing piglets, and loud voices and guitar music spilled onto the highway. A small grocery store stood darkened nearby. Peter did not want to risk alerting the wrong people to their presence, so he decided to find San Miguel by reading signs. There weren’t many.
Kayten’s superior vision made this a reasonable option, and they soon found San Miguel, the third street south of the bar. Peter turned east onto a gravel road that kicked pebbles against the Jeep. Worn houses clustered two or three tog
