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plastic and wood, I noticed the stink of rotten eggs.  
    Sulfur.
    This wasn’t kids playing with matches. Somebody had set off a bomb. Just like Abner predicted. Just like Stumpy said he’d heard at Tin City.
    I checked my watch. It was getting late. The sun was sinking toward the tree line, and my class was due to start. The search could wait till tomorrow. The evidence wasn’t going anywhere.
    Neither was I. Not until I had at least taken a look around.
    My search path started outside the foundation. It widened in ever-growing circles until it reach a small creek nearby. It wasn’t more than a foot deep in the middle. The bed was lined with smooth rocks like the foundation stones.
    I checked my watch again. I was about to go when something shiny caught my eye. A chunk of metal, uniformly curved and jagged, was stuck between two rocks.  
    Still in my boots, I waded over and pried it out. The chunk was the size of my palm. It was cast iron pipe, the kind once use for the toilet stack in old houses. The pipe was covered in black residue. I scratched it with my knife blade, removing carbon and a fine silver power. I rubbed the powder between my fingers and smelled them.
    Sulfur.
    I carried the pipe back to my truck. There was a box of freezer bags in the glove box. I zipped the pipe inside one and used a laundry marker to note the time and location of the find. Next step was to get the pipe analyzed.
    My phone alarm went off. Twenty minutes till my North Carolina History class started. The analysis would have to wait until I’d learned about farm bills during the Great Depression. All things being equal, I’d rather run into a burning building than sit through that lecture.
    My truck was only a half-mile down the road from Duck when Cedar called.  
    “What’s up?”
    “Change of plans,” she said. “I need a little favor. For Luigi.”
    “Well, if it’s for Luigi. Because if it were you, then we’d be square, and I’d be off the hook for dinner.”
    “You want off the hook?”
    Oh no, she wasn’t going to catch me in that little trap. “I say what I mean, and mean what I say.”
    “I’ll take that as a no, then.” She sounded relieved. “So. Could you take Luigi to meet his benefactor tonight? My coach called an emergency meeting for seven, the same time as his social thing.”
    “Be glad to. If you can do something for me.”
    “What does this favor entail?”
    “Not much, just take a trip to Stumpy Meeks’ house. I’ve got to get to class, but there’s an item he wants me to pick up.”
    “An item like what?”
    “A finger.”
    “Any of his fingers in particular?”
    “Not his. The one he keeps in his fridge.”
    “Boone Childress,” she said with a tone mixed with disgust and fascination, “you’ve got some explaining to do.”

    9

    The new jewel in the Allegheny County Medical Center’s crown was the Ethel Landis Children’s Hospital, a state-of-the-art facility for children. It boasted wings dedicated to birth and delivery, neonatal care, pediatrics, and teen health. It was paid for by a capital campaign led by the Titan Foundation, a philanthropic group created by the late Ethel Bayer Landis, wife of G.D. Landis and mother of Trey Landis, the siren chaser from the Tin City fire and as it happened, Luigi’s benefactor.
    The Titan Foundation also funded student exchanges with foreign countries. Ethel Landis was a world traveler, and she believed that the school children of Allegheny County deserved to study other cultures. Since she couldn’t fly the children to the countries, her foundation brought foreign students to Allegheny County. Luigi was one of several recipients of an exchange grant. The grant dictated he visit the sponsor to formally give thanks.
    “It sucks to be you right now,” I told Luigi as we approached the Titan Foundation office.
    “It is expected.” Luigi was dressed in a gray herringbone suit. His spiky hair had been tamed with a comb and a handful of hair