“There’s blood on your shoulders.”“Nein. I do not need that.” I make a negative gesture with my hand, forgetting about the rosary now tang...ed around my fingers. He grabs my wrist to look at it closer. ”Jesus Fucking Christ, Elf!” he gasps, seeing the bloody beads.“Logan, nein, bitte.”“Sorry. I know you hate for me to say that. But were you holding your rosary the entire time I --?”I jerk my wrist free from his grasp and untangle the string of beads as best I can. I set them down on my. When we'd finished we drove to the place we were supposed to meet our Grant's "friend." Jesse Herrera was your typical high school crook, actually a lot like me minus about 80 IQ points. His family was stable but his father was probably an alcoholic, and bounced from job to job. The family had recently moved to Indiana from Utah, and their school records in Utah mentioned suspected abuse. Jesse's grades weren't very good at either school, and Grant estimated his IQ at about 90, and most of his. More

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