He walked back to his car, shivering, and checked the receipt on his app.

Liam nodded, set the bag down, and waited. The portable card reader beeped. She scribbled her signature with a greasy stylus.

The clock on Liam’s beat-up Honda Civic read 11:47 PM. The last delivery of a double shift. The address was on the edge of town, a long gravel driveway leading to a renovated farmhouse that looked like it belonged on a lifestyle blog. Aspen Ridge Homestead , the mailbox read.