I threw the truck into park across the sidewalk, unbuckled my seatbelt in one motion, and jumped out toward the open bed of the truck.

“Stay in the cab with Noah,” I barked at Robert as I grabbed my heavy thirty-inch steel pry bar from the aluminum toolbox.

I hit the concrete walk running, rounded the side of the house, and yanked open the side door of the garage.

A wave of trapped, suffocating heat hit me square in the chest, smelling of gas cans, hot lawnmower oil, and dry drywall dust.

A small plastic radio on the wooden workbench was blaring classical violin music that echoed off the bare corrugated metal door.