Mouth set in a tight, grim line, Dean drove down the service road.
Ever since he'd left the motel, he'd been aware of something watching him. He couldn't see it, couldn't hear it. But he knew damn well it was there. The sense that someone sat beside him was so strong, he kept expecting to look over and see Sam in the passenger seat.
At last, he pulled over and parked the Impala, well before the bend where he knew Wiley had been planning to park his truck.
He was done with this shit.
Time to get this party started.