TO COUP’S ASTONISHMENT, the man—who couldn’t have been less than ninety years old—had suffered only minor cuts and abrasions; although his wife, he said, had been killed (which was weird, to say the least, since he was the only one in the car). Beyond that, though, he hadn’t had much to say—nor did Coup blame him—as they rumbled from the scene and continued east; indeed, he seemed to still be in state of shock. One thing, however, was woefully clear, and that was that at his age (and level of dementia) he shouldn’t have been driving in the first place.
“Maybe she was thrown clear,” said Tess as she buckled him in next to the ice chest, her tight Levi shorts merely inches from Coup’s head. “It was obviously a horrific accident; although it is strange that there was no other car. Could they
