I don’t hear anyone, and the dogs aren’t here. But I detect a distant noise, a faint high-pitched whine like a table saw, and there’s a house being renovated two doors down. Another car goes by, another neighbor, and I open the front door, noticing that the alarm isn’t set. That doesn’t make me happy. Stepping into the foyer of dark-paneled walls arranged with Victorian etchings I pause to listen, but I don’t hear anyone, and it occurs to me that Janet, Desi and my sister might be in the backyard. In fact that sounds like a very nice plan. Maybe I’ll drink coffee with them for a while. Then I’ll try to sleep for a few hours.

At some point this afternoon I’ll need to go over my talk for tonight because I’ve confirmed with my contact at the Kennedy School that I’m not going to cancel. I’m going to do this for Briggs. In spirit he’ll be with me as I address policy makers about the dangerous planet we live on and why it’s imperative to incorporate science and the highest level of training into everything we do if we’re to expand our frontiers and protect ourselves.

Inside the kitchen I see used coffee pods on the counter near the Keurig, and someone had cheddar-cheese toast. Probably Desi, as he’s become a big fan of Vermont cheddar since moving here and is quite particular about what color wrapper the block of cheese comes in. For him extra sharp is synonymous with purple, and in the mornings he asks for purple cheese toast, I’m told.

I set my briefcase on the breakfast table near a window, and I head to the back door, where Desi has parked the fishing pole, the baseball bat and glove Marino gave him for his birthday. The pole has a hard rubber casting sinker attached to a long sturdy leader line that’s tied to the monofilament, and he’s been teaching Desi how to cast the same way he once taught me. The nine-year-old is learning patience and precision, and not to muscle his way through life.

It’s fine except for how it makes Benton feel, and as sorry as I might be about that, we have to do what’s best for the child. Marino is good for Desi, and I don’t mind them using the backyard as long as no one tramples my roses, and the rule is when the line gets tangled in trees, no one is climbing anything.

Safety first, and I begin to open the oak door leading outside. Then I stop because I don’t understand what I’m seeing.

CHAPTER 45