He sat behind the wheel, pulled his seatbelt across his chest, and turned the key without saying a word.

We pulled out onto Route 9 and headed two miles north toward the Oak Ridge town line.

My right ankle had started throbbing with a dull, heavy heat inside my canvas shoe, but I kept my foot flat on the floorboard.

He turned into the Big Bear grocery store parking lot and parked near the entrance.

I unbuckled my seatbelt, but my father held out his right hand to stop me.

“Stay put,” he said.