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Send InquiryThe GPS rerouted him onto a county road. “Shortcut,” the robotic voice chirped. Leo snorted. In his experience, shortcuts were just longer ways to get hopelessly lost.
She nodded, as if that made perfect sense. “I got a lot of junk. My late husband, Herb, he was a collector. Of things . Said every piece of crap had a story.”
“Perfect,” Leo muttered, thumping the steering wheel.
“You alright?” Betsy asked, glancing over her shoulder.
“How do you know about Marge?”
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