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going to put me through? I work my ass off for the few lousy dollars your school pays to keep you from living in even more of a pig-sty than this place already is.” Jake waved his arm in a wide arc that encompassed the rest of the house. He realized his voice sounded like pleading and took another breath.
    Glen folded his hands, outstretching two fingers, and leaned his chin against them. Did he think he looked presidential ? Jake wished he could slap away the attitude. Goddamn rich kids.
    “We definitely appreciate what you do here, dude,” Glen said, “but hey, we’re just having fun, and we’re not really hurting no one, right?”
    Lightening the mood with levity was a tactic Jake had seen him use whenever his fraternity brothers had conflicts. With kids Glen’s age, the tactic almost always worked. It wouldn’t work on Jake.
    “It sounds like your answer to this whole problem is I need to lighten up. Is that what I’m getting here?”
    “Well, yeah. Or at least, can you spaz out about it, like, around noon?”
    This wasn’t getting anywhere. Jake gave a quick glance around. The rest of the brothers remained in their bedrooms, all doors closed. They were alone.
    “Can’t we just see this as ‘boys will be boys’?” Glen offered. He turned back toward his room.
    Jake slammed his right shoulder and elbow into the young man, pinning him to the wall.
    “Wha…”
    Jake was more than six inches taller and much wider, a fact he used to his advantage as he pushed against the Fraternity President’s chest. “Yeah, boys will be boys. But it’s better to be a man. Or at least live to see manhood, you know what I mean?”
    Glen’s eyes widened. Jake pressed harder. Glen gasped for air. Jake glared down on him with squinted eyes. It was the same look he gave his victims a lifetime ago—before he squeezed the trigger.
    “Make no mistake about it.” He spoke slowly and clearly, but low. “If I have to clean any more shit I shouldn’t have to clean, I’m going to clean it with that pretty boy haircut of yours.” Jake maintained the pressure a few seconds longer, then added, “I assume you understand me, dude ?”
    Glen gave a quick nod of the head.
    “Good.”
    Jake stepped away and around the broom closet door, whistling as if nothing had happened. Through the crack near the hinge, he saw Glen, still leaning against the wall looking shell-shocked. Both hands clutched his chest. Jake was unable to suppress a smile. As much as he hated to admit it, he’d enjoyed that.

Chapter Seven
    The town of Brookhill was known for its many small one-story houses. One large manor sat on the hill, which the town was named after. It was to this house that Rick had hiked at least two evenings a week since arriving here. He always enjoyed the warm greeting he received.
    Dr. Obenchain shook Rick’s hand. “How are you, Rick?” The doctor smoothed his red tie over a gray sweater.
    “I’m all right,” Rick answered. “But I do need to talk. I have some things to go over.”
    “Then you’ve come to the right place. Let’s go to my office.”
    Rick followed Obenchain through the garage that led to his basement office. The office contained an easy chair in front of a couch and an office desk. On the desk sat a photograph framed in gold. The photo depicted the doctor, beside him stood a high-class woman and a young blond-haired boy. Rick picked up the picture. “How’s Arnold?”
    “He’s doing very well. He’s making the Dean’s list at his school. Sure, it’s only third grade but I still see it as following in his father’s footsteps.”
    Rick smiled, showing his joy for the man who was both his therapist and friend. In fact, Obenchain was perhaps the only friend he had since his life re-started seven years ago. Pride glowed on Harold Obenchain’s face over his son’s accomplishments. As he peered over Rick’s shoulder, his smiled evaporated.
    “I’m sure you still miss her,” Rick said.
    “Of course.