Outside your gate.”

I walked to the front window.

There it was, not the black SUV, but Trevor’s silver sports car, angled badly beyond the gate, as if he had pulled in too fast and lost his courage before pressing the intercom.

Through the windshield I could see him hunched over the steering wheel.

For a moment I saw the boy again.

Then he lifted his head, and I saw the man who had split my lip.

“Stay there,” I said, and hung up.