“If the pin is there, then Tyler built the whole thing on our grass,” Emma said.

“Eight feet of it,” I said.

I pointed to the county map, where our house was drawn as a neat rectangle with a dotted line marking the property boundary.

Beside the drawing, I had written Carl’s preliminary measurement of eighty-two feet in blue ink.

“He must have known,” Emma said, her voice rising with that quick energy she got when she was anxious about leaving home.

“You don’t just accidentally miscount by eight feet, Mom.”