The tall man left his car by the pumps and started walking towards the station store. Sam called from the curb. Always good to give them space.“Hi, excuse me, sir, are you heading to Seattle?”Of course, he was; there was nothing between Ritzville and Seattle but Moses Lake, and this man wasn’t a steelworker. But it was always good to hear “yes” first thing.“I am,” said the man. He was at least six and a half feet tall, broad at the shoulders, and muscular. He had light brown eyes and skin, black hair buzzed close, wore an orange tank-top, khaki shorts, and flip-flops, and smelled faintly of cannabis.“Oh, hey great,” Sam said. “I wonder, may I have a ride, please?”The tall man stepped forward, smiled, and held out his hand. “Yeah, sure. I’m Marvin.” His grip was firm but not demonstrative. “I’ll be a few minutes. Can I get you anything to drink?”It was awfully nice to ask, Sam said, but he was just fine.When Marvin entered the store, Sam took a longer look at his car, an early n
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