The road disappeared entirely into tangled bushes and gnarly trees. He stopped the car, flipped the emergency back.
“You don’t live here? This place looks as if nothing human’s been around for years. ”
He was astonished at the uncultivated desolation. “Sure I live here, mister,” her warm voice said at his ear. “I live in that little house over there.”
“Where?” He rubbed at the windshield and strained his vision over the sweep of headlight. “I don’t see any house. Where is it?”
“There.” A plump hand came up and waved at the night ahead. “Over there.”
“I still can’t see—” The corner of his right eye had casually noticed that the palm of her hand was covered with fine brown hair.
Strange, that.
Was covered with fine brown hair. Her palm!
“What was that you remembered about the shape of her teeth?” his mind shrieked. He started to whip his head around, to get another look at her teeth. But he couldn’t.
Because her teeth were in his throat.