“Okay,” said Sarah. “I just thought I’d say hi. That was fun, what we did last night.”

“Huh?”

“Oh great. You’ve forgotten. I got the kids out of the house? With pizza money? Remember?”

“Oh, yeah, of course. Yeah, that was good.”

“I’m so glad I made an impression.”

“No, sorry. You did. Really. We should do that again soon.”

“You sure you’re okay? You sound kind of funny.”

“No, really, I’m fine. Just working.”

“Whoa,” said Sarah. “Meeting time. Gotta go. See ya tonight.” And she hung up.

Even though I was out of Earl’s humid house, I was still sweating. I should have told Sarah about him. I hadn’t promised Earl I wouldn’t tell her. But what if Sarah wanted to call the police? What then? I’d only promised Earl I wouldn’t call the police. I didn’t promise that I’d keep Sarah from calling the police.

Maybe that was my out. Tell her, let her do the dirty work, get me off the hook.

Right. Earl would understand. Earl, our neighbor who packs heat, would understand.

And then again, was it really that big a deal? Weren’t the pot laws twenty years behind the times? The place wasn’t a crackhouse, for cryin’ out loud. So a guy has a few plants in his basement. Okay, so maybe it wasn’t a few. So maybe Earl had a fucking farm where most people have a pool table. But was it any of my business?

And there were risks in telling Sarah, or the kids, what I knew. Risks to my reputation and integrity. The first thing they’d do is remind me whose idea it was to move out here in the first place: “Way to go, Dad. Thanks for rescuing us from the evils of the city.”

I went into my study and tried to work, but couldn’t focus. I kept getting up, going to the living room window, looking through the blinds to Earl’s place. At any moment, I expected to see a fleet of Ladas with Russian mobsters pull into the driveway, guns a-blazin’. Or maybe the cops, driving up on the lawn, pouring out of their cars in riot gear, guns drawn, surrounding the house. Tear gas is lobbed in. Men in gas masks break down the door, and moments later, Earl is dragged out by an officer on either side of him, thrown facedown onto the driveway, his hands cuffed together behind his back. Men in spacesuits start hauling out hundreds of plants and packing them into the back of a specially sealed van.