Kearns used the service station’s grainy soap to wash his hands. He knew he should be out on the road already. That he was being a damn fool.
The water never warmed.
At least he’d had the sense to move all the cars around back. And turn out the front lights. He worked the soap into a lather. Scrubbed and scratched between his knuckles with his thumbnail.
Hours later, Kearns pulled off the highway, cutting south through some town just waking up. He drove to the shopping center, parked somewhere in the middle, and waited for the lot to fill.