Jack had already relocated the first box and almost ran into Tom in the bedroom doorway. He took the package from him—rather quickly, Tom thought.

“Hey, no, Dad. Thanks, but that’s okay. I don’t want you hurting your back.”

“Don’t be silly. They’re not that heavy.”

He returned to the living room and picked up another package. Jack was right behind him, hovering like a mother hen.

“Dad, really—”

Tom ignored him and carried the carton into the bedroom.

When all four were piled against the wall, he said, “It says they’re from a toy company. What kind of toys are we talking about? Toy robots? I mean, they’re heavy enough.”

“Just toys.” Jack seemed tense.

“Do you mind showing me one?”

A heartbeat’s hesitation, then Jack said, “I guess not. But we’ll need a knife to cut the tape.”

“I’ll get one.”

Tom found an old serrated steak knife in the kitchen drawer, but by the time he’d returned, Jack had the smallest box already open.

He held up a folder with a curved blade. “I forgot I had one in my pocket.”

Inside, Tom saw an odd-looking stuffed toy, some unidentifiable little animal a little bigger than a football. “What’s that?”

“It’s a Pokemon. This one’s Pikachu. They were all the rage with kids a few years ago.”

“But why are you buying them?”

“I’ll probably wind up giving them to a local kids’ charity.”

Tom shook his head. What an odd man his son had turned out to be.

4

Jack found Carl waiting on the street outside his trailer park in knee-high green rubber boots; a short wooden paddle protruded from his right sleeve.

“Where’s the boat?” Jack said as Carl slid into the passenger seat.

“It’s waitin’. A guy I know’s lettin’ me borrow it.” He stuck out his hand. “My money?”

Jack handed him an envelope. “As promised.”

He’d come down with about a thousand in cash. His deal with Carl was going to leave him short, so he’d stopped at an ATM for an advance on the John L. Tyleski Visa card. Another envelope with the balance of the fee was tucked into a back pocket.

Carl checked the contents. Didn’t take long to count five bills. The reverent way he touched them made Jack wonder if Carl had ever seen that much money at once.

“I hope I ain’t makin’ a big mistake,” he said, still staring into the envelope.

“Don’t worry. A few hours from now you’ll be sitting in front of your TV with another one of those in your pocket.”

He sighed and folded the envelope. “Okay. Let’s go.”

As they pulled away, Jack noticed high chain-link fencing disappearing into the foliage; a rusted length of chain with a beat-up NO TRESPASSING sign spanned a gap that looked like an entrance.