Raising Stony Mayhall
“Like all their cities, Salt Lake was laid out in a grid, each street numbered from its distance from the temple at the center of the city. The address Blunt had given him, 750 East 400 South, put him seven blocks east of the temple, and on the fourth block south of it. He didn’t need to read any of the building numbers to guess which one was Zip’s safe house. Or rather, which one used to be his. Four squad cars, three ambulances, and two fire trucks had formed a semicircle of strobing lights ar...ound a smoking shell of a house. The fire seemed to be out, but firefighters were still spraying down portions of the structure.
He was too late, then.
Stony made a three-point turn—easy to do in the wide street—and parked a block away. When he shut off the engine, he realized that over the hours he’d become deaf to the whine of the differential.
It was seven in the morning and still dark. He’d made it to Salt Lake in a little over four and a half hours, driving fast through Green River and Price, slowing down only when he joined the interstate at Spanish Fork, where Crystal told him the cops liked to set radar traps.MoreLess
He was too late, then.
Stony made a three-point turn—easy to do in the wide street—and parked a block away. When he shut off the engine, he realized that over the hours he’d become deaf to the whine of the differential.
It was seven in the morning and still dark. He’d made it to Salt Lake in a little over four and a half hours, driving fast through Green River and Price, slowing down only when he joined the interstate at Spanish Fork, where Crystal told him the cops liked to set radar traps.MoreLess
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