Seven Crumpled Dollar Bills on a Pine Table in Michigan

“And if he doesn’t?”

“Then we are just buying time,” Shark said.

The noon rush at the Highway Sixty-One Diner was starting to thin out when Sarah walked in, her blue wrist brace standing out against her yellow jacket. She sat in the corner booth opposite Mike, her eyes darting toward the double doors every time they swung open. A small chocolate milkshake continue reading …