Robinson? Mr. Hawkins? Thursday, May 17 There’s no sign of any Hummer; I think it would be safe for you to sit up now.” Phillip glanced across at his passenger, slouched low in her seat. A bright green scarf covered her hair and big goggle-like dark glasses hid her eyes. Damned if she doesn’t look like some weird bug, he thought and fought back the grin that was starting to spread over his face. “Are you positive?” Gloria inched a little higher and peered cautiously up and down the almost deserted highway. “Aren’t we there yet? That sign said that it was only fourteen miles to Hot Springs. It’s been almost a half hour.” “This isn’t Florida, Gloria. Mountain miles are different.” The bug eyes turned and fixed him in their black lenses. “Phil, I know for a fact that’s not true. And, by the way, I am not a dumb blonde, whatever my sister may have told you.” He suppressed another smile. “All I meant is that you can’t make the kind of time on a twisting mountain road that you can on a sixty-five-miles-per-hour highway.
