Chapter 2

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It rained again as Tanner looked at the hand-drawn map Jim gave him as they left the funeral home. “Aunt Sophie’s pretty wracked up. Why don’t you come out and visit a while and tell her something good about Uncle Tony? Baseball games he took us to, something, you know. She’d like that.”

Tanner pulled over at the entrance to the subdivision. What the hell was he doing here? Three days earlier, he’d lain in bed, watching Paul jerk at his bootlaces. “You’re not just guarded, Mitch; you’re fucking armored.” Paul left, shirt slung over one shoulder, and Tanner blinked as Paul’s truck engine roared outside. The funeral notice came in the mail the next day, forwarded first from Raiford, then his parole officer, two yellow labels askew on the envelope. Time to get out of town, he’d decided.