7
Spring Clean
Remote Swedish village. Check.
Bumpy, winding dirt track. Check.
Spooky, scream-swallowing woods. Check.
Yep, this seemed like the perfect place to get clobbered and buried alive. The thought hit me like a rock to the skull. Had Philippe saved me so he could rape and murder me in his own sick way? Maybe JPAC executions didn’t do it for him anymore.
The Volvo struggled for grip and power as the track rose at a steep angle. We climbed above the dense, evergreen tree line onto a small dirt hill overlooking a house facing a small lake. A short wooden jetty poked out into the lake to the front of the property, a small outboard-engined boat tied to one of the end posts.
Philippe stopped the car and killed the engine. There was nothing else around except for birds, swooping
