The sound of gravel crunching out front drew me into the dark hallway forty minutes later.

I stepped out onto the front porch in my work boots, leaving the heavy inner door resting against the jamb.

A dark luxury sedan sat idling at the end of the driveway, its high beams slicing two white tracks through the mist toward the oaks.

Rob climbed out from behind the driver’s door.

He was fifty-three back then, in a sharp dark jacket without one speck of grease on the sleeves.

“Just checking if you were still up, Dan,” Rob called.