On an Oak Creek Street, a Retired Navy SEAL Took Off His Flannel Shirt

I drove two blocks east, turned onto Elm Street, and parked beside the wooden rail fence behind the community park shelter.

I locked the car, slipped my keys into the pocket of my flannel shirt, and walked the seven minutes home in the midday heat.

When I came up onto my front porch at half past three, a white business envelope with a red glassine window had been tucked under the brass door knocker.

I took the envelope into the kitchen, laid it next to the sink, and slit it open neatly with a little brass pocketknife.

The one sheet inside was printed on heavy blue bond paper from Keystone Mutual Liability and had come straight from their regional claims office in Harrisburg.