Irene showed up late in the afternoon, as she always did, and Tritia motioned her over. The old woman alone seemed to be in good spirits, and she helped cheer the three of them up, telling tall tales about holidays of the past as the four of them sat together at a picnic table under the pines.

That night, in the parking lot after the fireworks, Bill Simms and Ron Lazarus got into a shouting match and then a fight as their respective families looked on. They were rolling in the dirt, kicking and punching and screaming obscenities, and it took Doug and two other men to pull the two apart.

“You killed my dog!” Simms screamed. “You fucker!”

“I never touched your goddamn dog, you asshole!” Lazarus spit at the other man, a glob of saliva that landed harmlessly in the dirt at his feet. “But I wish I had.”

Doug held on to Simms. He could feel the man’s muscles straining as he struggled to break free. The other men held Lazarus. One of the women ran to get a policeman and returned with Mike Trenton, who warned the two fighters that their butts would be thrown in jail if they didn’t knock this crap off right now.

The men angrily stomped off to their respective cars, the crowd dispersed, and Doug and the young cop stood looking at each other. The policeman looked away, unable to meet Doug’s eyes.

“I guess they told you I came by.”

Mike nodded. “I tried to call you this morning, but there was no answer.”

“I was home. We were all home.”

The policeman shrugged. “I called twice. No one answered.”

“Why did you call?”

“I wanted to tell you that I’d interviewed Mr. Smith and that I called Phoenix.”

“And?”

“And he denies everything. I didn’t use your name, of course. I—”

“What about the post office? What did they say?”

“We couldn’t verify what you said. Their computers were down. They’ll call us back when they can access the information.”

“What do you think?”

There was only a slight hesitation. “I believe you.”

“But the chief doesn’t.”

“But the chief doesn’t.”

Doug looked over at Billy and Tritia. “Why don’t you go over to the car? I’ll meet you there in a sec.”

“Keys,” Tritia said, holding out her hand.

He dug the keys out of his pocket and tossed them to her. She caught them in midair and, her arm around Billy’s shoulder, headed toward the Bronco. Doug turned back toward the policeman. “He’s not human, Mike.”

There was silence between them.

“I got another letter from my fiancée yesterday. She said she wants to break up again.”

“It’s fake. You know that.”

“I called her, but she hung up on me. Wouldn’t even let me talk.”

“Do you think—”