Chapter 7 - The Prodigal's Descent
The threat of prison kept Eleanor and Brittany paralyzed for two months, but desperation is a poison that rots reason from the inside out.
By late August, Josh’s time had run out.
The men who held his debts were no longer satisfied with broken fingers. They had smashed the windows of his car and left a dead crow on his doorstep with a note: *MONDAY OR WE COME INSIDE.*
At 2:00 AM on a humid, storm-threatened Tuesday morning, Josh didn't go to Edith’s house. He knew the cameras were watching.
Instead, he drove to the outskirts of town, where the abandoned Palmer Feed & Supply sat beside the rusted railroad tracks. The co-op had purchased the property, but demolition wasn't scheduled until autumn. The old red wooden barn and the secondary storage sheds still stood, locked behind chain-link fences.
Josh knew that behind the feed store sat Arthur’s old detached workshop—a place full of vintage tools, antique brass scales, and a locked cast-iron strongbox that Arthur had used for cash transactions during harvest season decades ago.
Josh cut through the chain link with bolt cutters, his shirt soaked in sweat. He slipped through the weeds, his flashlight beam darting over the rotting wood.
He forced the heavy padlock off the workshop door with a crowbar. Inside, the air was suffocating, smelling of ancient sawdust, motor oil, and rat droppings.
Josh tore into the workbench drawers, throwing heavy wrenches and rusted chains onto the dirt floor. “Where is it? Where is it, you old bastard?!” he screamed, tears of hysteria streaming down his dirty face.
“Looking for this, Josh?”
A beam of a heavy industrial Maglite cut through the gloom, hitting Josh square in the eyes.
Josh stumbled backward, raising his crowbar like a weapon. “Who’s there? Stay back! I swear to God I’ll smash your head in!”
The light shifted down. Stepping into the doorway was Sam.
He was wearing his work boots and dirty canvas pants. In his right hand, he held the brass key Edith had given him on Christmas morning. In his left, a heavy flashlight.
“Put the crowbar down, Josh,” Sam said quietly. His voice wasn't angry. It was exhausted.
“You!” Josh roared, his eyes bulging with manic fury. “Of course it’s you! Grandma’s little pet! What are you doing here? Did she send you to spy on me? Did she give you the combination to this place too?”
“Nobody sent me, Josh,” Sam said, stepping forward into the moonlight that poured through the broken window. “I work the night inventory at Miller’s. I saw your car parked behind the grain silos with no lights on. I knew you were going to do something stupid.”
“Stupid? You call this stupid?!” Josh screamed, gesturing wildly with the iron bar. “I’m drowning, Sam! I’m going to die! You’re sitting on fifty grand like a dragon on a pile of gold, and I’m about to be buried in a ditch over twenty thousand! Give me the money! You give me that check right now, or I swear to God, brother or not, you’re not walking out of this barn!”
Sam didn't raise his hands. He didn't reach for a weapon. He just looked at his older brother, his eyes heavy with sorrow.
“The check is gone, Josh.”
Josh froze. The crowbar lowered an inch. “What? What do you mean it’s gone? You cashed it? You spent it?”
“I took it to Marcus Vance’s office three weeks ago,” Sam said softly. “I had him wire twenty thousand dollars to an escrow account under an anonymous trust. Then I had him contact the bookies in Des Moines. Your debt is paid, Josh. You don't owe them a single cent. It’s over.”
The words echoed in the cavernous, rotting workshop.
Josh blinked, the reality of the statement hitting him like a physical blow. The crowbar slipped from his fingers, clattering loudly against the concrete foundation.
“You… you paid it?” Josh whispered, his voice trembling. “Why? Why would you do that for me? After everything I said to you? After the way I treated you?”
“Because Dad made me promise to watch your back,” Sam said, his voice cracking with emotion. “And because despite what you’ve turned into, you’re still my brother. But the rest of the money is gone too.”
Josh’s eyes widened. “Where did it go?”
“Grandma had a stroke three days ago, Josh,” Sam choked out, tears finally breaking past his composure. “She’s in the ICU at Mercy Hospital. She’s dying. And none of you even knew, because Brittany was in Miami shooting a swim shoot, and Mom was at a spa in Scottsdale, and you were hiding in a gutter.”
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Josh collapsed onto an upturned wooden crate, burying his face in his dirty hands, and began to sob like a broken child.
***
