“Then we’re ready.”

At five thirty I parked two houses down from Elm Street and shut off the engine.

The porch light was dark.

Brandon came out carrying a green duffel bag and a box of files.

He set the box in the bed of his truck, then stood in the driveway looking back at the house.

My phone lit up.

It was Brooke.

“Are you there yet?” she asked.