Chapter 3

He’d only finished one when the phone rang. Too tired to cuss, he stumbled to his feet to go answer it. Another old-fashioned thing about this early twentieth-century vintage ranch house he called home was a single phone, on the kitchen wall where it had been for a good fifty years. At least it wasn’t a party line anymore. He kept saying he’d get new phones, have the wiring put in for a phone in each room. Somehow, he never seemed to have the money at the right time. Cell phones didn’t always work well out here, so he rarely used the one he had, except when he traveled.

“Storm.”