“It was heavy enough all by itself,” I said.

“Get some rest, Master Chief,” Kenneth said.

“I’ll see you Monday morning at 0800.”

“See you on Monday, Kenneth.”

I hung up the heavy receiver and set it back in its plastic cradle on the table.

By six thirty that evening, a morning mist was starting to drift in off the Atlantic, hanging low over the tall pines along our back fence.

The ocean air smelled of salt grass and wet sand.