Justin Bettmyer reached down into the right pocket of his paratrooper shorts and scooted on his belly in the pine needles until he was stretched out next to Hoover the dog. "Did you get the plate number?"

"Negative," Matt whispered over Hoover's large brown head. "Bad angle."

"Was that a Mustang?"

"Affirmative." Matt took a few shots before the garage door closed. He then handed the camera back to Justin, propped his elbows on the ground, and returned the binoculars to his eyes. "The windows were too dark to see in, but it's definitely not the Connors coining back for something they forgot. My guess is we got ourselves a solo male suspect."

"What's our next step?"

Matt turned to Justin Bettmyer and smiled. "In a few days we check out the mailbox and the garbage. And we wait him out. Nobody can stay inside a house forever."

A voice carried across the yard and through the pine trees, causing Matt to wince.

"Ma-aaatt!"

"Jeez Louise, my mom's got lousy timing."

"Ma-aaatt! Just-iiin! Do you want a snack?"

"Any idea what it is today, dude?" Justin's eyes narrowed.

"Whole-wheat fig bars. They taste like dog turds rolled in sand if you ask me."

Justin's eyes widened. "Hey. Your mom's made those before and I think I kinda liked 'em. What to drink?"

Matt pushed up to a stand and shrugged, tucking the binoculars inside his utility belt, next to his plastic bowie knife, squirt gun, bent coat hanger, and notepad. "You know how weird my mom's been with food lately-probably your choice of soy milk or green tea."

The boys walked companionably out of the pines, the dog trotting between them. Justin looked down at his younger friend. "You ever have Kool-Aid, dude?"

'Three times-at your house. The red kind."

"Right.".

"I had Mountain Dew there once, too."