“She looks like she lives here full-time,” Sarah said, watching the silver sedan start up.

“There’s a green welcome mat outside apartment 2B,” I said.

“I saw it through the glass of the front lobby when we walked past the mailboxes twenty minutes ago.”

The silver sedan backed out of its space, its exhaust puffing a thick white cloud into the crisp autumn air, and turned south toward the main road.

By eleven that morning, Sarah had turned the Buick onto the four-lane stretch of Highway Nine.

The blue and yellow neon sign of the huge discount store rose high over the pine trees on the right side of the road.