Chapter 8

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Turning the truck off Sixth Ave. and towards Main St. and the heart of town, Jude brooded silently, the cigarette carton on the dashboard sliding left and right, the radio tuned to some inoffensive middle-of-the-road radio station out of Austin as various cassette tapes, some decades old, rattled in the glove compartment.

The warmth of the sun felt oppressive even with the windows open, the truck moving with ease in the light traffic of midday as he eased the vehicle into the parking lot outside of the town library.

Silencing the engine and unclipping his safety belt, Jude snatched the cigarettes from the dashboard and took hold of the white, worn tote bag on the passenger seat, its face decorated with a young girl sitting atop a ripe red apple and the words Calohan Family Orchards, and stepped out onto the gravel of the lot.