Chapter 5

Between them, they got the tarp stretched across the front of the Mustang and tied down with bungee cords. By then there was no question about trying to get back to the office. Mike’s trailer was right there. They tumbled through the door, dripping wet and feeling battered by the rain, now mixed with some hail.

Without giving it much thought, Jeff dragged his sodden T-shirt over his head. He could almost wring it out, and water dripped from his jeans to the floor. Mike was equally wet. He, too, shed his shirt, a faded chambray work shirt with the sleeves cut off. His darkly tanned arms gleamed like burnished mahogany with a mixture of sweat and rain. His near-black hair was plastered to his skull, and strands separated to reveal the jagged scar above his right ear, normally well hidden.