The old truck groaned and bounced along another six miles, past acres of farmland with grazing black-and-white cows and bright red barns, until he came to a long gravel driveway and turned onto the road. The place hadn’t changed much on the outside since he’d last stayed there. An old farmhouse, it was white, two stories, with green shutters framing the windows. The large front porch held a swing and just enough decoration to keep it from looking suspicious, while half of the front porch was screened in and wrapped around to the back of the house. Gabe parked in the back and shut off the engine. He didn’t see any sign of Mac or that he’d been here recently, but then again Mac tended to disappear without a trace when he wanted, a trait that made him a great field agent but drove his superiors crazy. He cringed when Lea stuck her head out the window for a better look. “It’s a pretty house, sort of a lazy, laid-back style. We lived in an apartment when I was a kid, but I used to dream about living out in the country.”
