He moved quiet and easy to a back service door, testing the knob first but then having to bust it loose with a screwdriver. From dropping into the yard to entry, he couldn’t have taken more than fifteen seconds. He walked inside and began to sort through the key chains hung on the wall when he heard that growl. At first, he thought maybe it was himself, because he hadn’t had a bite to eat since they left Hot Springs. But when one growl turned into two, maybe three, he was damn sure the space was filled with some wild-ass animals.

He grabbed two sets of keys and ran for the front door, tripping over his own feet before unlocking the door and racing outside. Looking back, he saw it was dogs, a damn pack of mangy mutts, six mean motherfuckers with hair raised across their backs, barking and howling for him, coming right for his ass. He tried to read the writing on the repair tags while he hid behind an old Honda Accord, dogs sniffing and scattering around him. One jumped up on the hood of the Honda, spit dripping from its teeth.

Ladarius held up his hand, trying to talk sense to the animal. “Come on now, puppy,” he said. “We good. We straight. Just be cool.”

Down the row, like a gift from God, he spotted an old silver Buick Regal like his granddaddy used to drive. He knew these cars, learned how to steal on these cars. All he needed was to bust open the steering column and use his screwdriver to crank the engine. It was like his granddaddy was sending him a message from up in heaven. Here’s my gift, young man. A busted-ass old Regal to run you home. But after that, you better get your life straight. You hearin’ me?

Ladarius nodded, looking straight up at those dogs, trying to be cool and talk some sweet sense to them. He took a deep breath and ran for the Buick.

He only made it maybe ten yards when one of those dogs got hold of him, yanking his ass back by the leg of his jeans. He fell face-first in the gravel, more dogs on him now while he heard more barking and growling, the whole pack tearing at him. Motherfuckers biting him in the legs as he kicked and punched, blind to it all now, feeling that hot blood run down his legs, knowing what it was like to be eaten alive.

He yelled and screamed, flat on his back, looking up into the streetlights and flapping red flags. low monthly payments. hot deals. e-z terms.

Nobody heard him. Ain’t nobody coming.

*   *   *

“Mr. Bloodgood,” Johnny Stagg said. “Sure do appreciate you taking my call. How are you this fine evening?”