Glenn was kneeling on the hardwood floor right beside the front door frame.

He’d taken the old brass strike plate off completely and had a brand-new steel deadbolt assembly laid out on a blue shop towel.

“You’re up early for a Thursday morning,” I said.

Glenn dropped the heavy drill and whirled around, knocking a little cardboard box of steel screws across the floorboards.

He got to his feet and wiped his hands nervously on his jeans.

He didn’t smirk or fold his arms.