Well, Megan started. Give the man a cigar. Mitch switched hands on the binoculars and stuck his right one in hisjacket pocket to snuggle up to a chemical handwarmer packet. He stood there, looking toward town, lookingtoward the field across the road where ash-blond cornstalks stoodunharvested, row upon row, in testament to the wet fall and earlywinter.
What does Paul think? I didn't tell him. He stared, wide-eyed, his jaw hanging halfway to hischest. In his mind's eye he could see the drawing from Josh'snotebooks boy and his dog. Worse than that for worse-was the fistof panic that tightened in her chest.
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