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smacked the steering wheel again. He lowered his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
    Family issues don't matter tonight. I don't get that money, family won't ever matter again.
    He had one last option. He could call his sisters. He didn't expect much from them, they had sided with Sean long ago, but perhaps they would care more about his impending death than his father.
    He called Samantha first. She didn't hate him, though she didn't go out of her way to have any contact with him. Her husband, Chuck, despised him, though, so Duncan felt a twinge of hope when it was Samantha who answered the phone.
    "I'm sorry, Dunc," she said. "Really, I am. But I don't think feeding your problems is any way to help you. Why don't you leave town and come visit us? We can look into some programs for you. I'm sure Chuck could arrange a job. Come on. Stop this crazy lifestyle of yours before you get yourself killed."
    That's all Duncan needed — spend his days pushing paper for a manager like Chuck. Duncan didn't even know what kind of papers Chuck pushed, but he would never work for a cocky fool like that. No way.
    That left Mary — the longest of long shots. She never got over that he won three thousand dollars off of her stupid friends during her wedding reception. "They were drunk and celebrating and you cheated them of serious cash," she screamed at him when she learned what had happened. He shrugged it off. "That's cards," he said, knowing he had done wrong but figuring the whole thing would blow over in a few months. Mary never let it go.
    No surprise, then, that she didn't pick up the phone. He tried her cell, too, but she ignored him.
    Duncan put the phone away and glanced in the rearview mirror before pulling back on the road. A beat-up car idled under a streetlamp a little way back. The headlights were off. He made out the silhouette of a big man with a thick head.
    Waiting to see what happened seemed like a horrible idea, so Duncan slammed on the gas, screeching his tires as he tore off down the road. He couldn't be sure but he swore the car followed him, keeping its lights off. Duncan hit the brakes, turning hard left, hit the gas to straighten out, and shot through a side street.
    When he reached another major road, he slowed the car, turned into traffic, and casually drove on. His heart hammered blood throughout his body. He could smell the sweat that stuck to his arms.
    Two more ideas came to him. He could rob a few convenience stores. Except he knew he couldn't. The thought of stealing from somebody who worked hard all day left Duncan with a sour taste. Cheating crooks had a Robin Hood feel to it. That was different. No, he couldn't rob anybody.
    Which left him with only one alternative. He'd have to pawn something belonging to Pappy. The man had so much stuff in his apartment, there had to be enough of value to pool the money he needed. He could pawn it, and then get back to work at cards. When he raised back the money, he'd return the pawned items to Pappy's house. Most likely, the old man would never even notice.
    Duncan didn't like it, but he didn't like any of this. At least, pawning a few items kept him from having to commit a serious crime that endangered people. The more he thought of it, the more Duncan settled in to his plan. His shaking hands eased a bit.
    "Sorry, Pappy," he whispered to the empty car. "I hope you understand."

Chapter 5
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    Though Duncan had walked down the apartment building's hall so many times he knew where to avoid tripping on the threadbare carpet, though he had opened Pappy's door with his personal key so often that he knew to pull up on the knob before turning or else the door would stick, though he had entered the cluttered apartment so much that it had become like entering his own home after a long day at work, this time felt new, different, and terrible. This time he walked down that hall and the hall lengthened to the horizon. Each step weighed upon him heavily enough that by