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Edwin was gazing out the window of his shop when he saw Gavin walk past. Not so much walking, Edwin thought, as shuffling

with no destination in mind.

He stepped out onto the sidewalk and went after Gavin. Moving at a regular gait, he caught up quickly, came up alongside him,

and said, “Hey, how you doing today?”

Gavin glanced his way and said, “Oh, hey, how’s it going, Mr. Choo?”

“Not bad, not bad. You?”

Gavin shrugged as he plodded along. “Taking it one day at a time. Getting my steps in. They say you should do a few thousand

every day. You know they got those whaddya call ’em, pedometers, you can put them on your wrist, tell you how far you gone.”

He grinned. “I don’t have one of those. When you’re just walking around all day, you kinda don’t need one. You know you’re

gonna get the steps in.”

“Sorry I didn’t bring you a coffee this morning,” Edwin said. “You must forgive me. I was dealing with a few things.”

“Oh no, don’t feel bad about that. It’s not like I’m sitting there thinking, Where’s Mr. Choo with my goddamn coffee? That was a kindness you did me the other day, but you don’t have to make it a regular occurrence.”

“You mind if we take a seat? I just want to keep an eye on the shop in case anyone comes by.”

“Oh yeah, sure.”

There was a nearby bench and they took it. Gavin, in a pair of stained jeans and a threadbare pea coat that was probably once

blue but now a mottled gray, peered curiously at Edwin from below the visor of his ball cap. His hair hung over his ears and

touched the back of his collar.

“How long have you been out of work now, if you don’t mind my asking?” Edwin said.

“Well, it’s been a while. The days kind of all run in together. But I’ll tell ya”—and he grinned—“I miss the weekends.”

Edwin smiled. “I think I understand. What are you doing for a roof over your head?”

“I still got my F-150. Don’t run it much unless I can scrape together a few funds to put half a tank in. But it’s got a comfy

front seat, and that does me most nights. If it’s really hot and humid and doesn’t cool down after the sun sets, there’s plenty

of benches to choose from here in Lucknow.” He smiled. “The world is my oyster.”

Edwin eyed the man sympathetically. “Not for a moment am I suggesting my situation is anything like yours, but you know, I

live out of the back of my shop.”

“Oh yeah.”

“No home to go to every night, no little lady waiting for me. Have a hot plate to make my meals, a mini-fridge, a small bathroom

where I can clean up, and a mattress. It’s all I really need.”

“Sounds like you’ve got a good setup,” Gavin said, looking almost envious.

“Exactly. And I’m content. To each according to his needs.”

“Who said that?”

“I believe I just did.”

“No, no,” said Gavin. “Originally.”

“You’re thinking of Karl Marx. It formed the basis of his socialist philosophy.”

“Geez Louise don’t say that word too loud. The townsfolk’ll string you up. Socialism ’s a dirty word.”

“I think one can look at it in a broader context,” Edwin said. “That, if we are content, we don’t need to strive for more

and more.”

“I guess.”

“Have you been looking for work?”

“Well, if the right thing came along, sure. The chief was telling me about some inn up in Stowe that’s hiring for the ski

season, but I’m not sure that’s a good fit for me.” He pursed his lips, as though reconsidering. “I wonder if they rent snowmobiles.

I’m good with machines.”

They were both quiet for a moment, watching others walk past in each direction.

“I would like to propose something,” Edwin said. “An opportunity.”

“What kind of opportunity?”

“Something I would prefer to discuss at greater length. But something that would put an end to your current situation.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. Because, and believe me, I am not one to judge, but the way you are living is really untenable.”

“Well, you might be right.”

“I need to get back to the shop, but why don’t you come by tonight, say around nine. And if you don’t mind, please don’t mention

this to anyone, because then they’re all going to want to get in on what I have to offer. Your discretion would be most appreciated.

Just rap lightly on the door and I’ll let you in. The lights’ll be off, but I’ll be there.”

Gavin pursed his lips, considering the offer. “I s’pose I got nothing to lose.”

Edwin smiled. “And can I just say, and I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, because it’s merely an observation, but you

have a very nice head of hair.”

“Here he was on the property the whole time when I was thinking he’d wandered off someplace,” said Dell Peterson. “Poor Zeke.

Poor, stupid Zeke. He deserved better than this. Gotta be some kind of animal, don’t you think? A bear, maybe? I thought you

should know about it, maybe warn others around here. More folks than me have cattle. Hendersons up that way got horses, although

maybe a bear wouldn’t want to tangle with a horse. Lot bigger than a goat. Anyway, hope I didn’t bring you out here for nothing.”

Dell and Harry were standing at the edge of a creek that ran through the Peterson farm, looking down at what remained of the

goat known as Zeke.

“It was good you called,” Harry said.

“Had Zeke a long time, since he was a kid. He was more than just a goat. He was a member of the family. Had the run of the

house like he was a dog or a cat, he’d just come in, watch us eating dinner, hoping for a snack. I’d never known him to wander

off before. Gonna break Donny and Brian’s hearts.”

“Your boys?” Harry asked.

“Yeah. They loved this dumb goat.” Judging from Dell’s expression, Harry was thinking he’d loved him, too.

Dell said, “I was thinking if not a bear, a coyote, although a coyote might be small to have taken on Zeke. But could have

been a bobcat or a lynx. I know we got them in Vermont. They make themselves scarce, you don’t see ’em much, but we got ’em.”

Harry was nodding. “We do.”

“But whatever it was, doesn’t make any sense to me. Taking out most of the bones and leaving the meat.”

Harry said nothing.

“You ever see anything like this before?” Dell asked.

Harry thought carefully before answering. “I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything like this happen to an animal, Dell.”

Dell shook his head. “Damnedest thing. You figure an animal, it eats the meat and guts and leaves the bones, not the other

way around.”

“Yeah,” said Harry, kneeling beside Zeke for one more look. He took from his jacket pocket a small camera, focused on the

dead animal, fired off a few shots.

“What kind of camera’s that?” Dell asked.

“Digital,” Harry said. “Take the little chip out, put it in the computer, print out the snaps.”

“I’ll be damned.”

Harry looked off into the distance and stood. “We’re not far from the road here.”

“Beyond that tree line,” Dell said.

Harry said, “Thanks, Dell, I’m just gonna look around a bit.”

“Yeah, sure, knock yourself out. If I was you, I’d maybe give the other farms around here a heads-up, you know?”

“Good advice.”

He slowly paced the edge of the creek, then steered toward the tree line, looking to see whether anyone or anything had parted

the tall grasses along the way. There hadn’t been much rain this week, but there’d been a couple of overnight showers, so

it was possible there might be some tracks left behind where the grasses gave way to open ground.

Harry stepped gingerly, not wanting to miss, or mar, anything. But as he moved slowly to the trees, he didn’t see much that caught his eye. No impressions left by shoes. He did spot a short trail of some kind of animal footprint, and not one he recognized. It was nearly a foot long, and didn’t look like a print from a lynx or a bobcat or a bear, either. He took a couple of pictures and continued on.

He worked his way through the line of trees and reached the road, a two-lane stretch of blacktop without a building in sight.

Stood there a moment, thinking about what had been done to Angus Tanner, and now Zeke, and wondered what in the hell he might

be dealing with here.

He turned, ready to retrace his steps and get into his car, which he’d left by the Peterson house, when something dark but

shiny caught his eye. He stopped, bent over, picked up the item, and had a close look at it.

It was a cracked, tinted lens that evidently had become dislodged from a pair of sunglasses.

He was driving back into town, talking on the radio to Mary, when he learned that there had been an explosion over on Barrett

Avenue. That was around the corner from Harry’s house.

“One fatality,” she said. “Darryl Pidgeon.”

“Say that last name again?”

“Pidgeon. Like the bird but with a d in it.”

“Rings a bell. I think Dylan hangs around sometimes with a kid named Pidgeon. Can’t remember his first name. Wonder if it

could be the same. What happened?”

“Some kind of barbecue thing. Blew up.”

“Christ. I’ll swing by on my way back in.”

There were still emergency vehicles lining the street when Harry turned down Barrett. He parked his car a few houses away

and walked up, spotted someone he knew from the Lucknow Fire Department.

“Jess,” Harry said, waving the man over. “What happened here?”

Jess filled him in. “Poor bastard got scattered all over the place. Still finding pieces.”

“Isn’t that kind of over-the-top for a barbecue accident? I mean, I’ve seen people get burned up pretty bad, but, Christ,

blown to pieces?”

Jess shrugged. “Early days yet. Got to do our investigation.”

“Anybody else hurt?”

“Wife was in the kitchen, got hit by some glass, got a couple cuts. Paramedics patched her up here on the scene. Lucky thing

the boy was in the dining room, far enough away that the glass didn’t hit him. He was playing with his birthday present.”

“It was a birthday? Were there lots of other kids here?”

“No. Just the kid and his mom and dad. Dad was cooking up dinner.”

Harry sighed. “What’s the boy’s name?”

“Auden.”

“Auden,” Harry repeated. “Thought I recognized the name Pidgeon. Auden Pidgeon. Hangs out sometimes with our Dylan.” Which

gave Harry a moment’s pause, thinking about what might have happened had Dylan been invited over to be part of the celebration.

“I’ll have a word,” Harry said, and walked up the drive to the front door, which was already open a few inches as the emergency

workers continued to go in and out. No need to knock, so he tentatively went inside and found his way to the kitchen, saw

the birthday cake with shards of glass sticking out of the frosting, felt more of them underfoot. There was no glass left

in the doors that led to the deck, and all that remained of the barbecue were some scraps of metal bracing.

He heard voices nearby.

In the dining room, he found mother and son sitting in two chairs pulled closely together, their arms around each other, rocking slowly. Focused on the two, he barely glanced at what was on the table. Harry offered a solemn nod to the woman when she noticed he was standing there. She saw the badge pinned to his jacket, eyes narrowing for a moment.

“You’re Chief Cook.”

“I am.”

“Dylan’s dad,” she said quietly, her face lined with dried tears.

He nodded. “That’s right.” He went down to one knee to be on a level with Auden. “I’m so sorry about what happened to your

father. It’s a terrible thing. I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through.”

Auden turned. His eyes were red and looked as though they had cried a thousand tears. “He was making hot dogs. I should have

asked for something else. I should have said pizza. It’s all my fault.”

“Don’t you be thinking that,” Harry said, laying a hand on the boy’s arm. “Not for a minute. This is going to be a tough time

for you and your mom, and you’ll need to do everything you can to help her get through it. But I know you can do that. You

can be there for her, am I right?”

“I guess,” he said, and his mother gave him a squeeze.

Harry noticed the train set atop the dining room table. “That’s a nice-looking train you got there. You get that for your

birthday?”

The boy looked over to it, as though he’d forgotten it was there, and nodded.

“When the time’s right, I know Dylan would get a real kick out of seeing that. Looks like lots of fun.”

“It wasn’t working right,” Auden said. “It sped up all of a sudden and crashed onto the floor.”

Christina said comfortingly, “But we put it back on the track, didn’t we, Auden, and nothing looks broken.”

Auden didn’t appear to care one way or another.

“Think it works now?” Harry asked the boy.

Auden shrugged.

“Why don’t we see,” Harry suggested.

Auden slid slowly off his chair, checked to see that the transformer on the the table was still plugged into the wall outlet,

and then gently turned the throttle.

An electric hum emanated from the locomotive, and a second later it began to move. The black engine and tender, and the cars

linked to the back of it, made one circuit of the table, and then another, and then kept on going.

“That’s pretty cool,” Harry said, his palm on the boy’s back.

Auden appeared to take no pleasure in the train’s flawless operation, and Harry could hardly blame him.

Auden said, with no enthusiasm, “It’s working okay now.”