A sketchbook peeks out of the passenger door pocket. My fingers itch to touch it, to get a glimpse inside a mind that is not my own. “Don’t.” “I’m not gonna judge your Mickey Mouse fan art.” He snorts, eyes fixed on the road as he veers us round a fallen log. “More of a Minnie man myself.” “What is in there?” The sparkle in his eye is frightening. “Drawings of all my previous victims.”
