Alex’s father crouched down in the basement that was too small to allow a grown man to stand upright, and asked him to pay attention. His hands were marred black from the coal oil that left marks on his son’s dinosaur t-shirt where they touched it. He whispered that they were going to be crime partners together, and grinned as his boy sat at his feet driving toy cars around in circles on the poured cement floor. They were happy to be alone with their secret. His father said they were going to be rich.

            Upstairs the mechanical rumble from a washing machine covered the noises they made moving fruit jars into a line. This was Alex’s grandma’s house— the only home he had ever known. His grandma’s feet creaked above th...

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