could climb in the back.  He was tall, thin and tan, donned in a black wife beater and grey cargo shorts.  His light brown hair was short, his sideburns long.  Bradley bent over and tried to pull down her dress as she stepped inside the car.  “You good?” he asked.  She nodded and crossed her legs.  He moved the seat back into place, closed the door and got back into the car. 

 

“Where are we going?” she asked clutching her bag. 

 

“Brody’s.” 

 

“Where is that exactly?” 

 

“Lake Wheeler,” he answered.  “Brody’s house is at the end of a street.  Lakefront property.  Not really easy for Emma to get her spy on there.  We&rsq...

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