After breakfast, Doug called around trying to find someone who would replace the window. Harmon’s carried the glass, but there was no one available to do the installation. If Hobie were here, he would have known how to install the window, but Doug was not even willing to attempt it. Aside from the simplest and most necessary household chores, he was incompetent at manual labor. The shed was one thing—it was designed for construction by people like himself and came with simple step-by-step instructions—but the window was something else. He called several handymen listed in the phone book, but two did not answer and one refused to perform the work. The only man who would even consider doing the job said the labor would cost $150, and he would not be able to get to it for another two weeks.

Doug was tempted to just board the damn thing up and hang a picture of a window in front of it.

He made some more calls, then went back to the original handyman, whose price had now gone up to $175, apparently as punishment for daring to shop around and try to find someone else.

He hung up the phone and felt Tritia’s hand on his shoulder. He turned around. She was dressed in jeans and a nice blouse, and her purse was over her shoulder. “Do you have the keys?” she asked.

“Where’re you going?”

“Irene’s. I’m worried about her. I try to call and there’s never any answer, and after what happened to Hobie…” Her voice trailed off, not needing to finish the sentence.

Doug pulled the keys from his pocket. “I’ll go with you.”

“I think it’s better if I go alone. She’s not really up to seeing people right now. I don’t even know if she’ll see me. You just stay here with Billy.”

Doug’s eyes met hers, and she saw worry in them, concern. “It’s dangerous out there.”

“I know. I’ll be careful.”

“Why don’t I drop you off and park down the road? You can—”

“No,” she said firmly. She took the keys from his hand. “Don’t worry. I can take care of myself. I’m just going to check on her and be right back. You won’t even notice I’m gone.”

“Why don’t you have the police check on her? She’s an old frail woman, tell them you think she might have slipped and fallen in the bathtub. They’ll do it.”

“No,” Tritia said. She gave him a quick kiss. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes.”

“The car’s almost out of gas, but there’s enough for you to get there and back. Don’t buy any. I’ll get it later.”

“Okay,” she said.

Troubled, he watched her get in the car, back up the drive, and head through the trees toward town.