Chapter 7 I rapped my knuckles against one of the rough-edged planks boarding up the Liberty Brothers door. No one answered. I peeked over my shoulder for signs of watchful eyes in the dark and then knocked again. “Mr. Schendel?” I called inside. “It’s Ivy. I would really like to speak to you.” I lowered my hand and leaned toward the door. My shadow seeped across the planks like black ink spilling across the surface. All around me, the yellow paint branched down the bricks in a frozen reminder of the violence hurled upon the store. Nothing. “Mr. Schendel? I know you’re likely assuming I’m only here to rid myself of guilt. And you’d be partially right.” I positioned my lips an inch away from the boards. “But I am concerned about you. And your family. And your business. In fact, I moved out of my parents’ house because of what happened here.
