Fifteen Years After My Father Changed the Locks, He Seated Me at Table Twenty-Two

The mobile phone on the passenger seat vibrated twice against the plastic console.

The screen lit up with an incoming text message from an unfamiliar number.

I picked up the phone and opened the message.

If you come back to Greenfield, Gerald will make sure everyone pays.

I read the black letters on the white screen three times.

There was no sender name attached, no signature at the end, and no earlier message history in the log.

My thumb rested against the cold glass.