wait, because everything hinges on hearing his voice. “I knew you were in my truck that day,” he says in a low voice. I blink. What? “I saw the backdoor open in the rearview mirror,” he explains. “And then I saw it close.” In his truck…? And then it hits me. Devil’s Night so long ago when I snuck into his truck to follow him and his friends. The same one where he let me try his beer for the first time. “You weren’t old enough for everything,” he continues, “but you were old enough for some things,
