Slowly I creep through a massive space that will probably be a great room at the back of the house. I’m aiming for what I think is the front hallway, where there should be a set of stairs. The darkness and the skeletal frames of the walls, some of which are covered in Sheetrock, turn the inside of the house into a maze. I nearly run into frames twice, once blundering into what I suspect is a bathroom—two pipes sticking up from the concrete floor like PVC stubs—and once almost stumbling through an open doorway. Around me the house is silent but watchful, as if waiting to see what I will do next. I hold my revolver low but ready to bring to bear on any target. I hear nothing, but that prickling sense doesn’t go away. Somebody is in here, or has been recently.

My shins hit a short stack of lumber lying in shadow halfway across a hallway, hard enough to make me bite my lip to keep from crying out, but otherwise making hardly any noise. I step around the lumber and into the front hall, a set of stairs leading up. Light from Gene and Tony’s house shines through the front windows, turning the inside of this house into streaks of light and shadow. The two front rooms off the foyer are empty, so I creep up the stairs into the dark, crouched and holding my revolver in front of me like an unlit flashlight.

At the upstairs landing I look both ways down a long corridor that runs the length of the house. I’m interested in the front of the house, particularly the first room on my left, which would have the best view of Ethan’s driveway and house across the street. I step to the outside of the framed doorway, then crouch and pivot, the revolver pointing into the room. It’s empty. Smoothly I stand and step through the doorway, scanning the room. Nothing moves. There are two windows in the front wall. I walk toward them, careful not to expose myself to anyone watching outside. Near the closest window I stop and crouch. It’s hard to tell, but it looks like the Sheetrock dust on the floor has been disturbed, as if someone had been standing or sitting here. And then I see a Coke can sitting on the windowsill. There are still beads of condensation on the outside of the can.