Nash
I had no intentions of stopping at the trail head that led up to the look-out. I had scoped it out before, it was just a simple, easy trail, the kind you could take a small child on without them becoming too tired. But imagine my surprise, as I was about to drive by, I spotted Daphne’s car parked there.
I started to drive past, thinking it couldn’t possibly be Daphne. I had left her at the Bleakley house, safe and sound and already in her pajamas (again) for the night. It had sucked royally to leave her behind and go back out on the trail of some psychopathic bear, but I had a job to do.
“It’s not really her car,” I said, as I accelerated past. It just looked exactly like it. It just had the same state university sticker on the bumper. And a parking pass in the side window
