Five weeks later, the autumn air had turned sharp and cool along Elm Street.

I pulled the SUV up to the curb outside the Harrison house at exactly three thirty.

Richard was already out in the side garden, sitting on an old wooden bench under the maple tree.

He wore his brown chore jacket and had a yellow plastic bucket on the grass by his feet.

Ethan unbuckled Noah from his car seat in the back and lifted him out into the cold afternoon air.

Noah grunted happily, reaching his small hands toward the bright red leaves hanging from a branch.