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Harry had no intention of taking that set back to Choo-Choo’s for a refund. But he knew he didn’t want Janice doing it. If

either of them were to ask for a refund, it might arouse Edwin Nabler’s suspicions. Why, out of all his customers, would the

chief be unsatisfied? Were the boxcars broken? Did the transformer not come to life when plugged in? If everything was in

perfect working order, why return it?

Because you’re some kind of fucking freak.

That wasn’t going to fly.

But Harry definitely wanted it out of the house. It didn’t matter what Janice had paid for it. That set was never going to

be opened, never going to be played with. After Janice went to work, Harry put the set in the trunk of his cruiser and drove

straight to the Lucknow Municipal Waste Facility, which was a fancy name for a dump. It sat five miles out of town off the

road that led to Bennington.

He came up to the manned gate, flashed his badge at the attendant so as to give the impression that he was here on official

business and avoid the fee, and entered the facility. When he was out of the attendant’s sight, he stopped, got out, opened

the trunk, and picked up the box, all the pieces still carefully packaged inside.

While birds circled overhead, Harry walked it over to the edge of an enormous pit of trash and, swinging this arms three times to work up some momentum, pitched the set into the air. It sailed in a long arc before dropping into the middle of dozens of green garbage bags. Harry wanted to be sure it was too far away to tempt anyone to wade in after it. The box had landed face down, hiding the plastic windows revealing the treasures within, so it wouldn’t be obvious to any dump scroungers what it was. Soon all this would be bulldozed over. Harry slapped his palms together, as though he’d actually had to touch some of that trash, returned to his car, and drove out, feeling a weight lifting off his shoulders as he got back onto the highway and headed for the Lucknow Community Center, stopping for take-out coffee and donuts along the way.

“Ooh, a cream-filled,” Susie said, reaching into the box. “I don’t know what kind of favor you’re looking for, but if there’s

also a lemon one in here, and you want me to sleep with you, the answer’s yes.”

“Last I heard, Susie, you were playing for the other team,” Harry said.

“Doesn’t matter. We’re talkin’ donuts here. What is it you want?”

She and Harry were sitting at a picnic table out back of the community center. Harry had dropped by and suggested they leave

her office to discuss a proposal.

“That Mr. Nabler who came to see you about doing something community-minded? Buying uniforms for the kids or whatever?”

“Yeah?”

“I think you should have some further discussions with him about it.”

Susie’s eyes narrowed. “Okay,” she said, drawing the word out. “And why would I do that?”

“As a favor to me. And I’d like you to suggest he come out around, say, seven this evening. He closes his shop at five. That

gives him time for dinner, and then he could come out here.”

“And I’m supposed to say what, exactly?”

“How much detail did you get into when he came out the first time?”

“Not a lot. I told him I’d give it some thought.”

“Have you done that yet?”

“Nope.”

“Think you could?”

“I could pull together some prices for him. Like, if he wanted to spend a thousand, we could do this, and if he wanted to

spend five thousand, we could do that. Something along those lines.”

“That sounds perfect,” Harry said.

“Uh, Harry, why are you trying to stick it to a guy who’s showing an interest in making a contribution? Dude wants to give

back and you’ve got a problem with that?”

“I think it’s an act. He’s burnishing his image. Wants to look like a fine, upstanding citizen.”

“But he isn’t?”

“That’s what I’m trying to determine. Look, if this guy’s really on the up-and-up, no one’ll be happier than me.”

“What do you think he’s done, Harry?”

He just smiled.

“How long you want me to keep him here?”

“Think you could charm the pants off him for an hour?”

“Well, for sure that’s not happening, unless he brings donuts, too.” She made a face. “No, he’s too weird. Not even for a lemon-filled.”

“You wanna try him now, see if he’ll take the bait?”

Susie studied Harry for a moment. “Okay.”

He followed her back into her office, sat on the other side of her desk while she looked up the number and dialed. Waited.

Suddenly she raised her index finger, signaling that someone had picked up at the other end.

“Hey, Mr. Nabler, it’s Susie at the community center... Right, Edwin . I was pulling together some numbers for you, Edwin, and wondered if you had some time this evening to come out and have

a look at them.”

She nodded, listened. “Terrific. How’s around seven? I gotta work late tonight, setting up for a flower show they’re holding

here on the weekend. Okay, good.”

Susie hung up.

“This guy’s not, like, a serial killer or something, is he?”

“I do not know him to be a serial killer, for certain,” Harry said, dodging a direct answer.

Susie spotted some lemon filling on her pinkie finger and licked it off.

“These donuts aren’t going to cover it. You owe me.”

A skill Harry had picked up over the years was how to pick a lock. He’d once arrested a break-in artist who’d agreed to show

him the tricks of his trade. They’d even become friends after, and every once in a while Harry took him out for a beer in

exchange for a refresher course.

But even then, it was never as easy as it looked on the TV shows, where someone whipped out an array of lock-picking tools

and broke into a secret government installation in under twenty seconds. Real life was not an episode of The X Files .

Harry didn’t know whether he’d acquired sufficient skills to get into Nabler’s shop through the alley access. If he couldn’t,

he might have to resort to using a blunt instrument, like a rock through the front window when no one was looking. Then, as

a trusted officer of the law, he could enter the premises as part of an investigation into an act of vandalism. But that was definitely Plan B.

He once again phoned and told Janice he would be late getting home.

“Same thing as last night,” he said.

“Roger that, over and out,” Janice said.

God, he loved her.

He muted his phone, slipped it into his pocket, then settled into the spot he’d used the night before, perched on the cinder

blocks by the Dumpster. He was there when, at fifteen minutes to seven, the back door of Choo-Choo’s Trains opened and out

walked Edwin Nabler.

Good ol ’ Susie , Harry thought.

Harry watched the man double-check the lock, then walk around and get into his van. Harry slipped off the blocks and crouched

down low as the van wheeled by him.

Seconds later, Harry was at the shop’s rear door, taking the lock-picking kit from his pocket. He knelt down and had a close

look at the lock, wondering which pick his burglar buddy would choose.

Even before inserting the first pick, he thought he could hear something on the other side of the door. A mechanical sound

of some kind. A chorus of metal spinning on metal. And something else. Something faint.

A muted chuffchuffchuffchuffchuffchuff .

Harry knew Edwin left a train running all the time on a loop in the front window of the shop, but it wasn’t likely that he

would be able to hear it all the way back here.

He gently worked one wire, then another, into the slot where a key would normally go, moving it one way and then another,

feeling a little like a surgeon performing a delicate operation.

It took him just under five minutes. The lock disabled, he opened the door, holding his breath, hoping an alarm wouldn’t go

off.

None did.

But the sound he’d heard earlier was now louder, closer to a din. Much more than a chuffchuffchuffchuff and more like—

ChuffchuffCLICKETYCLACKclicketyCLACKwooWOOchuffCLICKETYchuffCLICKETYchuffWOOchuggachuggaclackclicketyCHUFFCHUFFclicketyCLACKwooWOOchuffCLICKETYchuffCLICKETYchuffWOOchuggachuggaclackclicketyCHUFFCHUFFclicketyCLACKwooWOOchuffCLICKETYchuffCLICKETYchuffWOOchuggachuggaclackclicketyCHUFF...

Harry slipped into the building, closed the door behind him, then turned to see what was making all the racket.

“Oh my God,” Harry said.