“I’m serious when I say we’d need to be careful. Silent. Around these parts, people are shot for trespassing.”

It only made her want to go more. He couldn’t think of a real reason not to. He’d only had two drinks, which these days, with the tolerance he had, barely made a difference. There were already flashlights in the car. Why not have some fun?

“Let’s go now.” She was already twisting her hair up into a ponytail, like that would somehow show him she was serious. He laughed. She won. He glanced down at her strappy high-heeled Steve Madden sandals.

“You’ll need to change your shoes.”

It was dark as they drove. Quiet in the car the way astronauts are quiet driving to a launch. Electric. A nervousness. The anticipation of discovery, the threat of failure. He pulled into the lookout area and turned off the car, leaving on the headlights so they could see the dense forest in front of them.

After a moment, Henry turned on the flashlight, shut off the car lights, and opened the car door.

“How do we get there?”

“We take that.” He pointed to a narrow opening in the trees. “An old game trail. We hike up until we hit the dirt road. Then follow the road to the next bend. There, we’ll leave the road and carefully walk to a small patch of trees. We’ll hide in the trees and spy on the house.”

“I love this.”

He shone the flashlight and gestured for her to go first. The light bounced on the dirt ahead as she made her way into the trees. She had refused to change her shoes but was moving fast in heels. He was impressed with her balance and agility. They made it to the aspen grove without incident. She wanted to look everywhere at once: the barn, the view, the house. The lights were on in the cabin and they could see Mr. Miller sitting at the kitchen table. It had been almost twenty years since Henry had seen him, but he looked exactly the way he remembered. Baggy overalls, bald except for one thin silver string swept across his forehead and pasted behind an ear. The old barn was still standing, full of shadows, about twenty yards from the house, an outline in the dark.

The old man stood up from the table and walked to the window. It seemed like he was looking straight at them. There was no way he could possibly see or hear them. They were hidden by the trees, the moon was covered by clouds, and they were half the length of a football field away. Still, they froze and held their breath. Dead October leaves swirled, making a creepy crunchy sound. Like footsteps. Mr. Miller pressed his nose against the glass. Maybe he could see them?

Claudine stepped out from behind the trees.

“What are you doing?” Henry hissed.