Before too long, she hears the crunch of gravel right behind her. She turns.
The Cadillac—its four headlights staring at her like a giant bug—gleams in the bright mid-afternoon light, the white top so pristine it looks like freshly fallen snow. The driver’s door opens. A slim, middle-aged man steps out. He’s wearing a suit, charcoal gray, and a thin matching tie.
“Need a ride somewhere?” he asks.