You Should Have Checked My Past

Part 3 — The Handcuffs

Garrick left his truck crooked across my driveway and climbed out with a pistol pressed to his thigh. Rain flashed silver under the porch light. He walked toward the house wearing the same confident smile he’d worn beside my mother’s bruised face.

He pounded on the front door. “Open up! We’re settling this tonight!”

I waited until the hidden porch cameras had the firearm clearly on the federal feed. Then I opened the door.

Garrick laughed when he saw me standing there alone. “Where’s your mother?”

“Safe.”

His smile dropped, his jaw tightening. “Move.”