While he was replacing the carburetor, Charlie accidentally knocked a beer into the truck’s engine bay. The beer spilled, and the can lodged beside the motor, too far down to reach, so he left it there and weaved to the cardboard box to get another. He put his plaid coat back on. It wasn’t as warm as it had been, with the outside layer of fabric snipped away. The clock said 2:16 p.m., less than two hours until Melissa got home. There was no way he would sober up before then. The truck was fixed – he could go for a drive. He opened the shed’s bay doors, snagged a six-pack by the plastic rings, tucked the rest of the Scotch under his arm and grabbed his chainsaw with his free hand. He stowed everything in the back of the truck, then got in the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition
