It's now after midnight in Seacliff, San Francisco, and the houses are dark and the streets deserted. A new November moon, if anybody were there to see it, would reveal Pinky's unfinished job in Henry Barbour's garden, but the house is dark too. But three blocks down and two blocks over at Hazel's house, Pinky's parents are lying awake thinking of their son, in their moon drenched bedroom.