By nine fifteen that night, the kitchen counter was covered with four lunchboxes, a thermos, and an open road map of Pitkin County.

Henry came into the kitchen holding a sheet of white graph paper covered in dark blue ink lines.

“Look at this drawing, Mom,” Henry said.

“I found the county real estate parcel map for his address.”

I looked down at his hand-drawn sketch of the Caldwell estate outside Aspen.

He had carefully mapped out the main stone house, the separate carriage house, the security gatehouse, and the stone perimeter wall along the riverbank.

“They have eight security cameras along the main driveway,” Henry said.