She went back in.

The outer deadbolt turned with a sound like a coin dropping on a counter.

A dog barked twice on the next street over and then stopped.

The kitchen window went dark.

The grass along the curb was soaked from Thursday’s rain, still full of water, cold enough to sting through my knees.

I got the flashlight out of the glove compartment and knelt down with my hand in the leaves.

Wet maple leaves, a bottle cap, a sock some dog had dragged off, and the box jammed under the low branch of the hedge.