Bones ran ahead toward a car that was parked a few yards away. It was strange. The car had pulled out of a side street next to a pizza place, driven a block, then pulled back over. Bones walked up to it and tapped on the hood.

“Lump, it’s a vintage 1977 El Dorado Cadillac in classic burnt-orange. I think they only made a few hundred of these.” Bones had the soul of a ’70s kid. He loved their music, their cars, everything. 

The orange tanker was still running and Bones was standing right in front of it. Worse, he hadn’t even noticed that two guys were huddled in the front seat, half hidden behind a giant map. I was about to tell Bones to get out of the way when the guy in the driver’s seat glanced over the top of his map and moved his head slightly to the left. 

My heart pounded in recognition. How could this possibly be? It was the tall Suit. My mind flashed back to the night Bones and I were crouched in Annie Kratzer’s living room. This was the guy who had asked Annie if she had seen the Cornstalk and the Tomato.

Now here he was in Ridgewood 1978. But how? 

Page 151