“Who’s he? Your therapist?”

“Naw. He lives three houses back, near the beginnin’ of the cul-de-sac. He wants me to catch Miss Mundy in the act of waterin’ her stuff and all.”

“Why would he want to do that?”

“Because it’s makin’ him crazy that his grass and his flowers is all dead and wilty while Miss Mundy’s is all green and growin’ like a jungle.”

“So you’re supposed to hang out here all night and catch her in the act?”

Carl nodded. “Sorta. He’s been after me for weeks, offering me money to do it, but I keep tellin’ him no.”

“Because you don’t want to get Miss Mundy in any trouble, right?”

“Well, yeah, there’s that, but also on account of how I gotta be up bright an early ever mornin’ for my job. That don’t stop him from offerin’ me more money, though. But I just kept on tellin’ him no.”

“‘Kept’?” Jack said. “I guess your being here tonight means he made you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”

“In a way, yeah.” He motioned Jack down. “Here. Take a look at this.”

Jack glanced around to see If anyone else was lurking about. He sensed Carl was exactly what he seemed to be: just a cracker working as a groundsman. But still…after having one of his tires slashed by another cracker this morning, he wasn’t taking any chances.

It looked like they were alone out here, so Jack squatted beside Carl.

“What’ve you got?”

“Somethin’ really cool.” He picked up the metal object and held it toward Jack. “Dr. Dengrove lent it to me. Ain’t it somethin’?”

Jack took it and turned it over in his hands. A digital minicam. He noticed two slim wires trailing from the casing.

“What do you think you’re going to do with this?”

“Get pictures. Dr. Dengrove wants me to get a movie of Miss Mundy water in her stuff.”

Jack shook his head. “In this light, Carl, I’m afraid all you’re going to get is a dark screen.”

“Nuh-uh. Nuh-uh.” Jack detected a certain note of nyah-nyah glee in Carl’s tone as he reached over and pressed a button above the camera’s pistol-grip handle. “Take a look.”

Jack raised the viewfinder to his eye and blinked as the walls of Anya’s house and the grass and plants surrounding it leaped into view.

“Whoa,” he said. “A night-vision camera.”

He could make out the palms and the larger flowers—not the colors, of course, because everything was either green or black, just the shapes—along with her array of crazy lawn ornaments. As he swung the view past a lighted window the image flared, losing all detail. As he kept moving, the light from the window left a wavering smear across the tiny screen that quickly faded, allowing him to make out details again.