Liar's Market. Taylor Smith

in crushed white rock led from the house’s porticoed front door to the edge of Elcott Road. At the curb, bluebottle flies were flitting lazily around the lids of the fifty-gallon trash bins Carrie had wheeled out the night before—a gray one for regular garbage, green for garden waste, and a blue bin for recyclables. Up and down the street, identical tri-colored trios of bins dotted the ends of other well-manicured drives, the only sign that the pristine neighborhood housed real people with normal requirements for food, drink and bathroom products.

      Across the road, a green van sat in the driveway of Bernice and Morrie Klein’s house. The old couple had lived opposite the MacNeils for thirty years now, but they were getting on. Carrie had seen them only once or twice since she and Drum and Jonah had returned from London—and not at all in the last few weeks, she suddenly realized. Maybe she should run over and check on them? If their cleaning service was there, though, they must be all right.