I stopped.
That didn’t make sense. I’d never used the garage, and its only key stayed on a hook beside my kitchen door.
A few seconds later, Chase came jogging out.
The moment he saw me, he froze.
“I didn’t hear your truck.”
“I can tell.”
I looked past him into the garage.
“How did you get in there?”
“The door was open.”
“No, it wasn’t.”
“It was when I got here.”
I pulled the key from my pocket.
“I’ve had this with me all day.”
His eyes shifted toward the garage.
“It was hot. I just wanted somewhere cool to sit for a minute.”
That explanation was suspicious enough.
But then he said something worse.
“You keep it locked now?”
My stomach tightened.
I’d never told Chase the garage had ever been unlocked.
“What did you just say?”
His face went pale.
“I…”
“You asked if I keep it locked now. How would you know it wasn’t always locked?”
He lowered his eyes.
“I should go.”
“Chase.”
He stopped.
“If you don’t tell me what’s going on, don’t come back.”
For several seconds, he stood completely still.
Then he whispered:
“I’m sorry.”
He shut off the mower, lowered the handle, and pushed it down the driveway.
He didn’t even ask for his pay.
The next Saturday came.
No Chase.
Neither did he return the week after that.
Then, three days later, I spotted him outside a grocery store climbing into a brand-new black SUV.
At first, I thought I had the wrong kid.
The faded baseball cap was gone. So were the patched jeans and worn sneakers. Chase was wearing a designer polo shirt, spotless shoes, and an expensive-looking watch.
Then he looked directly at me.
It was definitely him.
The SUV drove away before I could call his name.
And suddenly, I wondered whether everything he’d told me had been a lie.
PART 2
The following Saturday, someone knocked on my door.
