Gibby’s eyes narrowed, and the muscles on his jawline bunched. He tightened his hold on his metal detector.

“You’d be wise to leave right now, mister.”

For a tense few seconds, Wyatt and Gibby stared at each other. Then Wyatt exhaled, turned, and started the long trek back to his SUV.

For his part, Gibby didn’t move.

He cut a solitary figure—standing in the ruins, holding his metal detector, watching Wyatt until he vanished over the distant hilltop.

Then Gibby slid his right hand into his pocket. His fingertips caressed his newest treasure, as his mouth stretched into a grin.

CHAPTER 39

Orleans, Northeast Kingdom, Vermont

Scarlett Fraser needed to win.

She got her competitive streak from her father, the ex-varsity linebacker, Scarlett’s mom, Nancy, told other mothers. Nancy was part of a group organizing the sale of chocolates and cookies to raise money for an upcoming history class trip to Washington, D.C.

The student who raised the most money got a special gold medal.

Scarlett wanted that medal.

It would complement her bowling trophy, her soccer trophy, her archery trophy, and her medals from her science competitions.

She insisted on using every free moment to go with her mother, knocking on doors, ringing bells, calling over fences to gardeners, waving down joggers, or stopping people walking their dogs. Scarlett was relentless, wanting to return to neighborhoods several times.

“We may have missed someone, Mom.”

Nancy did what she could to keep up, but her 10-year-old selling machine was wearing her out. They’d covered every neighborhood in every town within a half-hour drive of Newport, where they lived.

Today, they loaded cartons of cookies and chocolates in the back of their SUV, and rolled into Orleans.

“Now, honey, we’ve already been here before. So don’t be disappointed,” Nancy told her as they scouted the town for untapped sales territory.

“We haven’t been there.”

Concern pinged at the back of Nancy’s mind as she followed Scarlett’s finger pointing to Hemlock Creek Estates, the mobile-home park. For Nancy, something about the place said, “Enter at your own risk.”

“I don’t know, honey.”

“Come on, Mom. You never know. I could sell lots there,” Scarlett said, adding, “I heard Sophie Brill might be setting up a table at a mall in Burlington. I’ve got to try every place. Mom, please!”

Nancy took stock of the park and her biases, chiding herself for her middle-class attitude and prejudices.

“All right. Let’s go for it.”

They wheeled into the Estates, parked near the entrance, loaded Scarlett’s canvas shoulder bag, locked the SUV, and then began knocking on doors.

To Nancy’s surprise, the park was home to young families, grandmothers, and retired people. Not ex-convicts, like she’d imagined. Sales were good.