He'd come abreast of a green truck that looked a lot like Calhoun's.

The green truck was below and behind, maybe two hundred feet down.

He kept coming, not often, but up until a month ago, the artist remembered seeing the green truck.

The older warden fiddled around in the green truck for a few minutes.

"We'll keep our eyes open for that green truck," Frank assured him.

At this point, Frank told his father about the green truck.

"A second witness saw her get into a green truck and leave yesterday morning."

The green truck behind her tapped his horn and she realized that the light had changed.

There were as yet no green trucks approaching with their confused soldiers.

That old green truck of his had been up on blocks in the far corner since before Michael moved in.