Mark's keen, but tired mind diligently worked as he drove, covering the miles on that winding rural road to the Pace house, to see if talking to the chestnut-haired Nancy Pace and her uncle could tell her anything. He wasn't quite clear in his mind what value would come out of a chat with her, but she'd always been an amiable girl, talkative and eager, and she undoubtedly had at least been exposed to the drug-traffic at school. And maybe, just maybe, she might let something drop that she had observed in Clete's behavior that might explain why he kept covering for the drug pushers. Anyway, he had to start somewhere, and he'd promised Rodney that he'd try to get him an interview with her.

His mind was again reverting to irritatingly lustful thoughts of DesirЋe when he saw the attractive brown-eyed beauty, Nancy Pace herself, on the road, the warm curves to her shapely young legs first catching his eye, then the miniskirt and white pullover she wore. Drawing closer, he realized that she was obviously braless, a new thing for the reserved and shy teenager, her full, youthful breasts doing an arousing sashay to her every step. He swallowed, wondering if maybe he shouldn't wait until tomorrow when her uncle was with her.

She saw him and waved. Mark smiled back, responsively easing the Bronco to a stop, making no motions toward her, yet she swerved from the sidewalk to come and talk with him.

"Hi, Mark… I-I mean Mr. Denning. I just bogged my car down," she said in one breath, her young white teeth glistening with her smile.

"Y-Yes, I can see that," he stammered, her accidental use of his first name surprising him. In the past, it had always been Mr. Denning. "Come on, I'll drive you. I wanted to talk to you anyway," he added with a little smile of his own.