“If you push the state prosecutor for the maximum penalty, they’ll attach my personal truck and my house in Ephrata.”

Arthur looked down at the mud under his boots, waiting for an answer.

Nathaniel looked at the old man’s worn leather work gloves lying on the tailgate.

“I don’t need to hurt you, Arthur,” Nathaniel said.

“The law has already done what it needed to do.”

He worked the brass keys off the ring, picked out Arthur’s original shop key, and tossed it into Arthur’s open toolbox.

“Take your personal tools and your truck,” Nathaniel said.