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The one tiuy dies

Jesse didn’t knohether to laugh or put a bullet in his head

He stepped onto the long grass and left footprints in the den as he crossed the backyard to the garage nestled back ast some pines and ray of weathered wood The whole structure leaned slightly to the left and Jesse figured gravity would soon take care of the rest

The garage had never housed a car Inexplicably, his dad had once coolf cart and it had stayed in the garage for a week until the cops had co for it

They’d all laughed over that

What had always been housed in the garage—and Jesse was half hoping had been sold or lost or stolen over the years—were Granddad’s old orking tools The planers and awls and chisels fit Jesse’s hand as though they had been born there He had spent a lot of years in this garage with the tools, pretending that the world outside the sweet smell of fresh oak didn’t exist

He could do with a little of that pretending right now

The heavy door slid back on the nearly rusted rollers and the odor of sour, rotting wood poured out He reached for the light switch, and was surprised when it flickered on, illu the cracked cement floor

Along the back as the workbench he’d o and on the wall above it, still as neatly arranged as he’d left them, were the tools

When he was younger they’d offered him, if not a way out of his family and his home, a way to survive

Jesse took a deep breath and stepped into the , anything, that could be saved

CHAPTER FIVE

“YOU’RE A KILLER,” David Mancino’s father said “We trusted our boy with you and you brought hi”

“But look” Jesse tried to show Mr Mancio what he’d brought in exchange for Dave He held out his bloody pal heart

“What the hell is wrong with you, boy?” Mr Mancio sround “We heard you were crazy!”