We came to a street sign we’d missed before, for Red Rock Road. I turned there, and Sally rolled down his window and stuck out his head to see better. We’d gone half a mile, passing five or six driveways, when he pointed to a house.

“What makes you sure?” I said. “They all look alike in the dark.”

“I told you, man, I remember.”

I parked far enough up the road that someone turning into the home’s drive wouldn’t notice the truck. After unlocking Sally, I grabbed a pair of binoculars out of the glove box, and we walked a short distance into the desert, the kid’s chains rattling with each step, then turned toward the house. We eventually topped a low rise capped by a stunted tree, a lucky bit of cover. Crouched there, we had a clear view of the driveway and front door fifty yards away.

The house was a concrete box built around a patio and had a guest cottage out back. The few windows were small and set high on the walls. There was no car in the drive, and the only lights were colored spots scattered around the yard.

“Looks like nobody’s home,” I said. “Or maybe he’s gone to bed.”

“Before daybreak?” Sally said. “Not Beaumont.”

“Let’s get closer,” I said.

We ended up walking all the way down to the house and circling it. A door in back had a window in it. I looked through it into a storage room that opened onto the dark kitchen. Beyond that was the patio on the other side of a sliding glass door. There were no signs of life.

We returned to the rise, and I told Sally I was going to wait another hour, see if anybody showed.

“Fine with me,” Sally said. “I’m enjoying the fresh air.” He sprawled on the sand.

The night was warm and windless, and the stars outshined the Strip in the distance. Sally pointed out airplanes passing overhead and traced the paths of satellites. A coyote yipped, another chimed in, and soon a chorus howled. Sally peered into the darkness.

“You got that gun?” he said, making me uneasy too.

He talked about his childhood. I wasn’t interested, only half-listened while watching the house.

“My old man got it into his head he was gonna raise rabbits for extra money,” he said. “Since it was summer, and school was out, taking care of them was my responsibility. I didn’t want the job, but that didn’t matter. The old man’s word was law.