Girl Scout Troop MasterChapter 3
“M-m-mister?” And shit again. “M-m-mister? I hear someone moaning. I thinks it’s Mrs. Andrews.” How could it be Mrs. Andrews? I’m no expert on dead people, but she sure as hell looked dead to me when I first saw her. Her neck was lolled over at an angle that surely meant it was broken. If she weren’t dead, then that raised all sorts of horrible scenarios, the first of which was finding some way to get her out of the driver’s seat without actually killing her with one more tenth of an inch...