She studied me for a moment, then nodded slowly and went back to sweeping the concrete floor.

A neat little pile of dry hemlock needles built up by the open door.

I opened the middle drawer of the workbench and took out three old brass key rings and a tin of oil.

Underneath them was a folded paper receipt from Oakhaven Hardware, dated seven years ago, for forty-two dollars’ worth of cedar stain and brass screws.

“Look what was stuck under the back legs of the workbench,” Sophie said.

She reached deep into the shadows by the back wall and pulled out a flat piece of wood wrapped in a faded green flannel shirt.