Mrs. Dodson thanks me for coming. Mr. Dodson silently shows me to the door, where we stop for a moment. “A lot of good men have died over there,” he says. “If I was you, I’d be careful about telling their parents and friends that they died for nothing.”

He doesn’t offer his hand.

Back at the curb I straddle the BSA and strap on my helmet. Like Chris said that day behind the shed last summer, he never had a choice.

Thursday, August 14

“Going somewhere, boys?” In the Exleys’ backyard, I’m blinded by the glare of a flashlight. It’s a little after midnight, and Arno has just passed a knapsack, a canteen of water, and a sleeping bag out his bedroom window to me.

A hand reaches out of the glare and yanks Arno’s knapsack out of my hands.

“Dad!” Arno starts to protest from the window, but it’s too late. Mr. Exley pulls out the bulging tear-shaped sock. “Whatever could this be?”

The Exleys had been suspicious for a while. The iodine-and-baby-oil sunlamp scalding only increased their misgivings. They called Piping Rock and learned that Arno had caddied there only once. So where was the money for maintaining the GTO, for the expensive stereo equipment, and for all the albums coming from? They could have confronted him then, but Mr. Exley wanted to understand exactly what his son was up to. They searched Arno’s room and found the pill press, but weren’t clear on what it was for.

They are now.

Saturday, August 16

Light rain falls in the gray predawn light. It’s a little after five a.m. on Saturday. I’ve left the BSA down the road and walked the last fifty yards to Tinsley’s. The tall iron gate across the driveway is always locked, but there’s a spot at the corner of the property where the fence meets a brick wall. Tinsley’s told me about the old wooden ladder hidden there behind some shrubs.

When Arno was busted by his father just after midnight on Thursday, things got completely screwed up. By the time I got home and called Tinsley to warn her that we weren’t coming, she’d already snuck out of her house. Her mom answered the phone and I immediately hung up, but that was enough to make Mrs. Stockton suspicious. She went to investigate and discovered that Tinsley was gone.

A little while later, when Arno and I didn’t show up at the planned rendezvous point, Tinsley tried to sneak back into her house. Her mother caught her and basically put her under house arrest.