bright white against the dark vinyl seat.
A blue text message box popped up across the glass screen, pulsing twice in the shaded cab.
The sender name at the top read Vance, Attorney at Law.
Below the name, two plain lines of text sat glowing in the quiet cab: Final discharge document confirmed. Surrender complete on receipt of funds.
I stopped at the edge of the open truck door, my hand resting on the cold steel of the frame.
Travis was still three steps away by the grain bed, pulling a pair of leather work gloves from his coat pocket with his back turned to the driveway.
The phone screen stayed lit on the bench seat between us, glowing blue in the dim cabin.
I stood in the autumn gravel and looked down at the bright screen resting on the dark vinyl seat.
My fingers went right past the glowing
