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years away from the outside world."
    Lloyd checked his mug in the handlebar mirror. His hardened muscles flexed with the effort to push the four-hundred pound machine from the cramped work station. "I can take care of myself."
    Brenda sipped her flask. She propped one hand on the workbench to maintain her equilibrium. "I wrote when I could. You know that, don't you?"
    "I thought you gave up on me. I wouldn't blame you if you did."
    "No one gave up on you," said Brenda in a maudlin voice. "You're a survivor."
    "If I could change what happened—"
    "You can't live in the past." Brenda grinned. Her lips looked tight and dry. "It's important you leave the bad behind you."
    Lloyd straddled the bike and brought it to an upright position, balancing the weight between his legs. "I wish I could have been at Dad's funeral."
    "It wasn't much. A cheap casket in a big hole. Smelled like earthworms."
    "I miss him."
    Brenda shook her head. Her stiff, arthritic fingers maintained a tentative grip on the pewter flask. "There's nothing you can do for him now. Go see your brother and spend some time with the living."
    "I haven't talked to Josh in years," Lloyd professed. "What am I supposed to say?"
    "He's the only brother you'll ever have."
    "Adopted brother," Lloyd corrected her. "We don't share the same blood."
    "You didn't share your father's either. That never stopped him from loving you like his own."
    Lloyd erased a fingerprint smudge on the bike's handlebar and rubbed the rag along the gas tank. "This bike was Dad's baby."
    "Are you going to ride it or burp it? You've been fiddling with it all morning."
    Lloyd raised the kickstand. He pressed the starter button and twisted the throttle. "Get on," he shouted above the noise.
    Brenda shuddered, aghast at the notion of riding on two wheels. "That thing is a death trap."
    "Just a short ride," Lloyd insisted. "Down the driveway and back. The fresh air will do you good."
    "What if something happens?"
    Lloyd revved the motor some more. "At this point, Mom, what have you got to lose?"

 
     
     
    Chapter 8

     
    Ronald Varden charged through his halfway house armed with a clipboard and a set of flex cuffs. A former Florida State Police Trooper, he embraced his new role as parole officer and commander-in-chief to a group of paroled ex-convicts. At five-foot-four and a hundred and fifty-five pounds soaking wet, Varden compensated for his lack of physical stature with strict discipline and zero tolerance for anyone who broke the rules.
    He snapped on the lights in the men's sleeping quarters and garnered a collective groan. When no one moved, he blew the whistle attached to a string around his neck.
    As if on queue, seven rousted men assembled themselves in lackluster formation to prepare for the routine inspection. An eighth man, Terrence Montgomery, hugged a pillow on his head to shield his eyes and ears from the morning assault on his senses. His large feet extended beyond the end of the bunk.
    "Let's go," Varden barked. His voice resonated with disdain. He approached Montgomery's bunk while the other men formed a single-file line outside the hall.
    "Move your fat ass," a rebel-rouser hollered.
    "Maybe he bought the farm," an older ex-con piped up.
    Varden silenced the crowd with a threatening glance. "Time's up, Montgomery. You know the drill."
    Montgomery hummed The Star Spangled Banner . He bent his legs to draw his knees from the end of the bed. "Pick on someone your own size."
    No stranger to verbal abuse, Varden parried most insults with his thick-skinned temperament, which more often than not, kept his own response in check.
    But this time was different.
    Varden bastinadoed Montgomery's bare feet with the clipboard.
    Montgomery threw his pillow and snapped, "Fucking Jheri curl cracker! Can't a brother get some sleep in here?"
    The audience of peers chuckled.
    "Move your ass!" Varden blasted the insubordinate parolee. "And I mean now!"
    "Why don't you kiss my black ass."
    The room went