He dropped the gate on the truck bed and started to pull out the bins. He was halfway done when he felt someone’s eyes on him. He scanned the parking lot and saw the detective who’d questioned him on the track field leaning against the wall of the building, watching him. Will felt a rush of annoyance. “You like the show?” he asked the detective, sounding more like his brother, he thought, than himself.

The detective smiled and straightened up, as if he’d been waiting to be asked. “Need a hand?” he asked.

“It’s for the kids,” Will muttered, wishing he’d kept his big mouth shut. “For the camp program.”

The detective was next to him now, pulling bins and bags down from the bed of the truck and carrying them over to the door of the community center. “This is nice stuff,” the detective said, looking over what Will had collected. He picked up a pair of batting gloves with the tag still on them from the top of one of the containers. “Looks new.”

“Uh-huh,” Will said, working as fast as he could to get this over with.

“Where’d you get it?” the detective asked.

Will knew what he was thinking, “It’s my service project,” he snapped. “I collected all of it from local families. I didn’t steal it, if that’s what you’re thinking. People around here have way more than they need.”

The detective nodded, giving him that. Then his eye wandered from the sports equipment to the truck. He walked over to the rear tire and ran a finger along the tread. “Looks like you still have your snow tires on,” he said. “It’s June.”

“What?” Will said, following the detective’s eye. “Oh, no. I keep those on all year. They come in handy on the farm, with the summer rain and mud.”

The detective was looking right at him now, a slight smile on his face. “Good on gravel roads too,” he said.

“I guess,” Will answered, not really understanding his meaning.

There were two more bins in the bed of the truck, near the cab. Will and the detective each leaned in and reached for one. Will lowered his onto the asphalt of the parking lot, but the detective stopped with his bin halfway out of the truck. He reversed course, crawling into the bed of the truck. He picked up something, but Will couldn’t see what it was.

“You park this truck in a garage, Will?” the detective asked.

Will was caught off guard by the question. “No,” he said. “Why?”

“No?” the detective asked. “Then what’s this for?” He held up a sleek black remote with two buttons on the front.