wasn’t borrowing anything.
He was sneaking onto my property in darkness and stealing from me.
Then carefully replacing the cap so I wouldn’t notice.
What bothered me wasn’t the price.
Maybe fifteen or twenty dollars each week.
I could afford that.
What bothered me was what the act said.
Clark had looked at an old widower with an old truck and decided I was someone he could take from.
Quiet.
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Alone.
Too old to notice.
Or too weak to object.
I replayed the video.
Watched him replace the cap.
And something inside me that had been asleep since Ellen died began waking up.
I should have called Katie.
Instead, I pulled on my shoes and walked straight across the lawn.
It was around seven.
Clark answered his door holding toast.
The second he saw me, something flashed across his face.
He knew.
Then he smiled.
“Frank! You’re up
