Chapter 5: The Garage

Gio found me in the kitchen at midnight, standing at the open refrigerator in my socks.

I had not eaten since breakfast.

The note said not to, and I had obeyed it all day, and my stomach had started to cramp.

"Close that," he said.

"I'm hungry."

"I know.

"Come with me."

He took me out the back door and across the yard in the dark.

The carriage house stood behind the main house, a long stone building with a slate roof and a heated floor.

He had a space heater going inside and a paper sack on the workbench.

In the sack was a sandwich from a diner on Superior Street, still warm.

"I bought it myself," he said.

"I carried it in my own hands.

"Nobody touched it."

I sat on an upturned bucket and ate it all.

It was turkey and cheese and I have never tasted anything better.

He leaned on the fender of the black Charger and watched me eat, with his arms folded.

"Who wrote the note?" he asked.

"I don't know."

"Somebody in my house," he said.

"Maybe," I said.

"Or somebody who wants me to think so."

"It was under your pillow," he said.

"I know where it was," I said.

He pushed off the car.

He crouched in front of my bucket so our eyes were level, and put one hand on my knee.

It was a big warm hand, and it was steady.

"Whoever it was," he said, "I want to find them.

"Tonight I want to stand in a room with you and not think about my father."

I swallowed the last of the sandwich.

I looked at his hand on my knee.

"What did you have in mind?" I said.

His thumb moved.

"You first," he said.

"Tell me what you want."

I stood.

I walked three steps to the Charger and put my palms flat on the hood.

The paint was cold from the garage and slick under my hands.

I looked at him over my shoulder.

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