The neon sign above the radiator shop buzzed with a low, steady frequency that vibrated right through Miller’s boots. The sign read Holloway & Son , though the son had been buried in a dry-county cemetery since ninety-four, and Holloway himself couldn't grip a wrench no more without his knuckles locking up like old brakes.
"To the bank. To the state. To whoever's buying up the bottom half of this county this week. Does it matter?" [S2E6] Hold What You Got
Holloway reached out with a trembling, liver-spotted hand. He didn't take the bag. He just touched the leather with the tip of his finger, as if expecting it to be hot to the touch. The neon sign above the radiator shop buzzed