A crackle of static bursts from the truck—my radio. How is it that Dispatch always manages to call me when I’m up the ladder? It’s an uncanny ability, I swear, that Judy has down to a science. Ignoring the call, I descend the ladder and pull the cable taut against the siding. I’m fumbling through my pockets looking for a ground block when the door opens and Mr. Jackson steps out on the porch. “You know a girl named Garlette?”
Garlette. Who the hell… “Dispatch?”
That’s the only thing I can think of right now, and I’m proud I managed that. He’s looking at me again and my mind refuses to work beneath that steady gaze.
He glances at my hand in my pocket and I pull it out quickly, dumping a handful of change and paper clips and fittings onto his driveway because I don’t want him to think I
