Betsy nodded. The year was 2000, she was thirty-two, and she’d been a single mother since she was seventeen years old. Her son, Allen, was a clever kid—too clever, as he knew more about what a loser his father was than Betsy would’ve liked.
The two were on their way to Cross Plains, Tennessee, population 1,600. They’d packed up all their belongings and headed to the rural area for one reason and one reason only. Their house. That was their option to be safe.