Chapter 53

He poured Andy’s coffee into a travel mug, wrote out a sticky note—Headed up to the ‘burg. Back at lunch—and left them on the rail. He was in his truck with the music cranked before the sun was fully up.He parked at Colonial Williamsburg and was walking down Duke of Gloucester Street by seven, watching the costumed interpreters headed off to their jobs. There was a faint, familiar ache there; his mother hadn’t been a professional historical interpreter, but she’d been a hobbyist reenactor since before he was born. She’d have been pointing out the quality of the cloth, admiring the cut of a particular stomacher or trying to work out the intricacies of a certain hairstyle.

He sweet-talked one of the street vendors into a few squares of fresh, hot gingerbread right out of the oven. He packed half of it away to share and ate the rest.

A gaggle of kids, all staring at their phones, nearly ran him over in their attempts to chase down a rarePokémon.