Standing, pouring her mothers neckless from hand to hand, I said, “How about me going and getting the gems and bringing them back?”

“Nope. I want to see your hideout. Let’s go.”

“Don’t you think you should get dressed?”

She looked down at herself, as though surprised. “We don’t have time.”

She took a long coat from her closet and slipped into it. “Let’s go.”

I laid the neckless on her dresser between a porcelain unicorn and a Miley Cyrus clock-radio. She motioned with her hand, “Don’t forget your loot, milkman.”

I dropped the neckless into my pocket and followed her.

A half block from my dugout I stopped. “You’re gonna have to be blindfolded from here on.”

“Oh, come on. I won’t tell anyone.”

“This is non-negotiable.”

We argued a bit, before she finally agreed to be blindfolded.

Holding her hand I wandered around to confuse her until we reached the dugout. Once there I removed the hatch and instructed her to climb down. She was nervous, her hand was wet with sweat.