CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
4:45 p.m. Eastern Daylight Time
Just south of the Canadian border
Newport, Vermont
The place was falling to hell.
Lawrence Keller was working quickly, going in and out of the house, and he could barely get himself to glance at it. His old summer house. He’d been driving all day, he was damn near exhausted, and the place was bumming him out. If he focused too much attention on it, there was the possibility that he might start crying.
The house was tiny, 700 square feet, one bedroom, one full bathroom, plus a glorified closet with a toilet and a sink. It was over a hundred years old. The cedar shingle siding, decades past its expiration date, had turned gray and yellow and brown. Some of it was rotting out. The rain gutters were plugged with leaves from last fall. S
