Chapter 3: Car
Whether it was exhaustion, or just being comfortable around each other, Esteban and I didn't speak for at least twenty minutes after leaving the airport. He drove the small Mercedes coupe my parents had bought him a few years ago, and our arms pressed up against each other on the arm rest.
We had left the airport, finished driving down the toll road, and even made our way to 95 South, when I finally spoke.
“What exactly happened?” I asked.
“It's hard to say," Esteban responded. “They were found dead on Highway 81, only a few hours or so from the house. I identified their bodies. It was them, Peter.”
“What killed them?” I asked.
“That’s the strange part. It was unclear. It wasn't an accident. They were just sitting in the Land Rover dead. Both of them were in their seat
