“Tyler, run inside and bring that box of toys Granny Grace put together for Melissa to play with, will you?” Russell said.

Tyler stepped inside, letting the door slam behind him.

“Tyler’s a bad boy, slamming the door,” Melissa said.

Melissa had been nearly incorrigible since before her parents divorced, before her mother, Emily, gave custody of her to Russell and moved away to Florida. She had been seeing a child therapist ever since and thankfully was calmer and more manageable, though she still had her moments.

Tyler returned and set the box on the porch. He crouched beside it. “Come over here, Melissa. Let’s check this stuff out. Let’s see what’s new in this box.” Grace replenished it regularly. Melissa squirmed to be set down and raced over to her brother, leaving the men to chat.

Russell lowered his voice. “You heard about the scam artists that targeted Covington, Marshall, and Mars Hill?”

“Heard about it briefly on the way home. Terry, that cop I rode with, was directing traffic over at the park. He told me a little, but no details. Who were these people? Who’d they con? Do you know?”

“A couple of older women up McCorkle Creek: Betty McCorkle, and a woman named Lucille Delbert and her sister, who’s a Carter, and a couple of women in Loring Valley. Can you believe that?”

“No, I can’t. It’s hard to believe anyone would be that gullible. They paid in advance, I assume, and lost their money?”

“That’s the story,” Russell said. “From what I heard, the scammers had their pitch down pat and were very persuasive. Seems they roll into town, canvas an area, and target widows whose houses look a bit frayed and who drive older-model cars.”

“Why older-model cars?”

“I have no idea,” Russell replied.

“They lived in those trailers that rolled in a week or so ago. Terry said they were gone when the cops got there.”

“There sure were a lot of cops in that park,” Russell said. “I heard they were Gypsies.”

“There aren’t any Gypsies around here that I know of.”

“That’s the local gossip,” Russell said.

A shrill yell from Melissa drew their attention.

“Play nice, or I won’t play with you,” Tyler said.

“I hate you.” The child threw a handful of small blocks at Tyler, who stood and walked away. “I like Sadie better. She plays good.”

“Sadie lets you cheat.” He looked at his grandfather. “She’s as mean as ever. She’s never going to change.” He took the porch steps two at a time, walked to the car, and climbed inside. Headphones plastered to his ears, Tyler’s body swayed to sounds they could not imagine.

Grace turned her car into Cove Road and into Bob’s drive. She got out, stopped to pull a weed making its home in the driveway, and all smiles, strolled up to the cottage.