Quotes from Wallace Stroby

Across the intersection he could see the crumbling blue-green facade of the Palace Amusements building, the grinning ten-foot-high face on its north wall smiling out on empty streets and vacant lots. The arcade entrances were covered with plywood; broken neon tubing hung from the walls. He thought of the hours he had spent there as a kid, playing pinball, firing the real .22s in the shooting gallery, riding the bumper cars. It hurt to look at it now.

She worked the dead bolt first. She slid a wrench into the keyhole, twisted it to keep tension, then used the pick to rake the inside of the cylinder. When she felt the pins slip, she turned the wrench farther. The lock clicked open. The knob was easier. When she was done, she shut the penlight off, opened the door, felt it catch against a chain. She