A searing portrait of hatred and regret.

As the 19th of April dissolved into the 20th, Samuel crept into an alley permeated by the stench of week-old garbage. Piles of rotting food, broken wine bottles, torn magazines, and a horde of other useless objects had spilled out of a large blue bin standing against a graffiti-stained brick wall. A stray black cat leaped out of the refuse and darted in front of his path. Christ, just what he needed.

Samuel knelt down in front of the church’s back door. The lock was primitive; it would be easy. He reached into his belt and removed two pencil-thin lock picks made of hand-finished clock spring steel.… Read the rest

The gift that keeps on giving sometimes gives you a little more than you bargained for.

Pongo Smith’s adrenaline could have burst a fire hose. The cash wouldn’t stop gushing. He had to keep pulling bills from the slot to make room for the ATM to feed new ones. Then his sluggish brain kicked in. This is too good to be true. He felt a blast of fear as cold as the snow-packed slopes that surrounded the Indian casino. He knew the eye in the sky was watching so he took a deep breath and tried to appear relaxed, hoping whatever video feed he was on wasn’t being monitored.… Read the rest