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Prologue

I grew up in Monterey, a small town just east of Cookeville, Tennessee With a population of about three thousand, there wasn’talleys, not even a Sonic But we had the Little General with the best fried chicken in the state and Mario’s, a small Italian joint that ht’ve been sest place on earth All our family and friends would meet up at h food and drinks for an arrill and threw back a few beers The Fourth had always been my favorite holiday I could pretend I was just like every other kid, that I didn’t live in a secret world of hell, but that all changed the summer of ’93

My raines, or at least, that’s what she told everyone when she decided to skip the day’s festivities She wasn’t one for big crowds, so none of us were surprised that she wanted to stay hoet over to Uncle Jamie’s, so he didn’t coer brother Madden and I to get in the truck, and we headed over to join the others As soon as we arrived, ent to join our neighborhood friends and cousins We rode our bikes down to Manis pond, fished and caught crawdaddies, then came back to the house and cooled off under the sprinkler As soon as we got dried off, we grabbed a handful of bottle rockets and were shooting at the black birds when my Uncle Jamie peeked his head over the fence and shouted, “Hey, you crazy hood-rats! It’s tiet down to the park!”

“Yes!” we all cheered

The firework show at Critchfield Park was always a big deal for the folks in Monterey Everyone in toould gather around with their lawn chairs and coolers, and for a brief otten We could all just sit back, shoot the shit, and enjoy the show Eager to get there and find a good spot, all the kids rushed over and started helping to gather our things That’s when everything went south

I was busy helpingchairs into the back of his dad’s truck when my father called out to me, “Hey Ro’, where’d ya put my keys?”

“Don’t know” I shrugged “I haven’t seen them”

“What are you talking about? You had theo!”

At six-three and three hundred and twenty pounds,with h to , but it was his ferocious teend in our town, known for whooping half the football teah school Those ru into brawls down at the local bar I didn’t have to listen to the ru when he lost control I lived with hi he could be His cold, black eyes narrowed as I answered, “Yeah, but I gave them back to you”

He didn’t like h to cause his back to stiffen and his chest heave with fury “If you gave the you where the fuck they were!”

“You were sitting with Uncle Jamie when I handed them to you”

“That’s fucking bullshit, and you know it” My heart started to pound, andGod knohat There’s no telling wherekeys ended up!”

My shoulders drew up as I muttered, “You sure they aren’t in your pocket?”

“No! They aren’t in ave the?” He threw his hands up in frustration His face was growing redder by theI knehat that e, and there was nothing I could do to stop it “And now you’ve gone and lost them! Stupid, worthless motherfucker!”

By now, everyone at the cookout was staring at us, but no one said a word They all just stood there, watching silently as I ave them back to you I swear it”