Bikers Burned My House Down the Night Before the Bank Could Take It

on the front porch steps. The porch was already on fire.”

My stomach dropped.

“He won’t talk to a lawyer. Won’t talk to us. Just keeps asking for you.”

I closed my eyes.

That stupid, beautiful, stubborn old fool.

He’d stayed behind.

I’d been sleeping at the Days Inn off Route 9. The room smelled like cigarettes and air freshener. I sat on the edge of the continue reading …