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Suddenly, they both glanced across the grassy field toward the sound of a vehicle kicking up gravel.
"There's a dirt road beyond that tree line." Zack pointed across the scrub of grass and the tall cedars that edged the back of the property. "I almost took that turn myself, but there's nothing else down that road. It's a dead end. Somebody must've made a wrong turn."
"Could be someone disappointed their meth supplier is out of business."
The city of Kenmore was a Seattle bedroom community, just up the I-5, in the northern part of King County on Lake Washington. It was quaint and picturesque. Not exactly where you'd expect a large methamphetamine lab. However, where you had acreage separating a home from nosy neighbors, anything could happen.
