Challa
““Compton.” “It’s Barstow. Good news, bad news.” “I’m listening.” “Bad news is we don’t have any idea yet where they went, but the good news is we got a handle on where they came from.” “I’ll take it,” Compton said, getting to his feet. He hurried into the kitchen and over to the table where he already had a map opened. Snatching up the marker, he paused to listen. “Before they came to Cooper, they were in Fallon Falls. Before Fallon Falls, Bryer.” Compton marked the map. “They’re taking a northerly route.” “Looks that way,” the sheriff acknowledged. “It’s obvious they’re avoiding the big cities and sticking with the smaller towns.” “Of course they would. Less competition for the entertainment dollar in the smaller towns. Hmm. Think they might be using the back roads?” “They’re pulling at least a dozen trailers, maybe two dozen. They can’t go the speed limit with that kind of load. Don’t they also have animals? Yeah, I agree.
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