“Before we go,” Amity said, “do you see that weird car in the driveway?” He’d been peripherally aware of the vehicle, off to the right, but in the blanketing dark, he’d not discerned anything especially strange about it. Stepping off the brick walk, making her way through the tall grass and weeds, Amity played the beam of her flashlight over the sedan. Following her, Jeffy felt a frisson of fear quiver across his scalp and down his spine, not because anything about the car was overtly ominous, but because it was as anachronistic as would have been Alexander Graham Bell making the first
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Amity is way more observant than her dad
