10
The state highway wound through the rural countryside. Bones stretched his nearly six-foot-six frame within the rented white SUV and turned to Maddock.
“You about done counting barns?”
Maddock shot a confused, blue-eyed glance at his friend. “What are you talking about?”
“We’re over an hour northeast of Wright Patterson Air Force Base, cruising past the thirty-seventh barn. I figure you’ve given up on the treasure hunt and are scoping out the farmer’s daughters.”
Maddock smirked. “You must’ve dozed off. We’re up to thirty-nine barns.”
“Not my fault. You were listening to Gordon freaking Lightfoot. I didn’t know anyone actually owned his music.”
“Hey, my dad loved Gordon Lighfoot.”
“And that’s fine for your dad. But you aren’t old enough for the early bird special at iHop, no mat
