Mortimer said we should be looking for a mailbox with an old tire attached to it.” Jillian shook her head and chuckled. “That shouldn’t be hard to see.” Chance slowed as they neared the area Mortimer had indicated. They’d climbed a rocky hillside, and the road clung to the edge of a cliff. At the top, the road wove inward amid tall stands of trees. Between bunches of bushes and trees, they could see the rocky shoreline. “There!” Jillian pointed to a mailbox with an old rubber tire. Chance pulled into the gravel driveway and drove through a stand of ragged bushes and old evergreens to a rustic cabin of cedar and stone, perched on the edge of a cliff. An old truck was parked to the side. “Let me take this one,” Chance said. “Mr. Mortimer didn’t say anything about Thompson owning a dog.” “He didn’t say anything about Thompson owning a gun either.”
