HE SHATTERED MY BOY’S KNEECAPS AND LAUGHED — THE SHERIFF NEVER KNEW THE OLD JANITOR HE SCORNED WAS ONCE CALLED WRAITH

Chapter 2

The man on the other end of the phone did not ask what had happened. He didn’t ask who, or why, or whether Marcus was sure.

He only said, “Where?”

“Renfrew General. Renfrew County.”

“I’ll be there before the sun’s up.”

The line went dead.

Marcus sat in the truck with the phone cooling in his palm, listening to the engine tick and the wind move through the empty parking lot. Twenty years ago, a younger version of himself had known precisely what those words meant. Men would begin moving. Bags would be packed. A plan would take shape out of maps and schedules and weaknesses, and somebody would end the night afraid of him.