Chapter 36

With the abductions accomplished—all three young men in the van’s empty compartment—Sander drove to the cabin in Lockland, Ohio, near Ashtabula. We were silent most of the way, unclear of the rest of our plan. He wanted to drown the three fuckers in Lake Erie, but I told him the bodies would be found.

Eventually, he said to me, “We’ll figure it all out when we get there.”

The cabin looked as if it were in a Thomas Kincaid painting. It had moss on one wall, a cobblestone walkway circling the structure, shoulder-high gardens, and a half-concealed white picket fence. To the far right of the building sat a meadow: lush green, high grass, few trees, Disney-perfect. Cottage came to mind when describing the place, but Sander had never referred to it as that. In his eyes, it had always been a cabin, and always would be.