Seth drove around town slowly, occasionally shining the SUV’s spotlight on trick-or-treaters. Now and then he’d flip on the siren for a couple of startling whoop-whoops. As soon as darkness had fallen, when it was still early, parents had the little ones out. He could see mothers and fathers standing along the curbs socializing while princesses, sci-fi creatures, spacemen, animals, robots and hobos ran up to front doors. The under-seven crowd and especially the under-four crowd wore bulky jackets with their costumes. Little girls had all colors of makeup on their faces and wild, jeweled and colored hair; boys had helmets and masks.

The business district was all done up—there were garlands, lights, harvest decorations and jack-o’-lanterns everywhere. Private business owners like Stu from the diner and Carrie from the deli, folks who were licensed food handlers, handed out things like candied apples and cookies. Rawley Goode was helping Carrie and while he wore no costume save his denim jacket and ball cap, he was still a little spooky. Down the street there was a wild and crazy witch, cackling and prancing all over the sidewalk—she wore black shoes with curled-up toes, red-and-white striped stockings, a black dress with little bells sewn onto the hem, a scraggly gray wig and a very tall black hat. She had a pointy chin, a wart and three blacked-out teeth. It took a moment but Seth realized it was Grace.

He pulled over and got a picture of her with his cell phone. Then he decided to snap a few more—Stu was a pirate, Carrie was a gypsy—and there were kids everywhere who were happy to pose for the town deputy. Even though it was a small town, none of the kids would get to every house and his mom and Iris would enjoy seeing pictures of the ones they missed.

A three-foot-tall Spiderman tugged on his pant leg and asked him if that was a police costume. The little mermaid, Ariel, asked him for a ride in the police car. Waylan, dressed like a bloody butcher and standing in front of his bar with a bowl of candy, invited him in for one on the house. Seth declined with a laugh and a whoop of his siren.

He was strangely touched by the celebration, by the many kids, by their parents socializing while the kids ran wild. He knew the drill—one parent took the kids while the other stayed home with the candy bowl. This wasn’t his first small town. His last assignment was just northeast—a town of only six hundred—and he’d stayed out on Halloween night just like this, patrolling, making sure it was a peaceful celebration of spooks and witches. But back here in his hometown, it kind of tugged at his heart. He remembered years of his mother dressing up, his neighbors scaring the little kids, all the candy. When he was eleven or twelve he and his buddies did a few reckless things—tipped a couple of trash cans, soaped a few windows, smashed a pumpkin or two. Bad boys, he thought with a chuckle. Nothing a broom and dustpan or a little Windex wouldn’t fix, but if they’d been caught there would have been holy hell to pay.

He wouldn’t mind the challenge of it all, he realized. Kids. A wife and permanent home. In fact, he thought he might be good at it.

He drove up the hill and parked in a quiet place where he had a good view of the neighborhood. As the night grew later and darker, the little kids with parental supervision were giving it up and the slightly older kids were coming out. It was around eight-thirty and he noticed the costume change as the kids were bigger—now there were hatchets through heads, bloody knives protruding from chests, ghouls and headless monsters. He remembered that, too—the evolution of costumes. He remembered when his brothers had graduated to bloody beasts and killers while he was still dressed as a pirate. He couldn’t wait until he could paint his face white, with blood dripping from his mouth like the undead instead of some lame pirate or cowboy.

A couple of kids walked down the street—a mummy and a karate black belt wearing his white gi. He figured them for about eleven. Maybe small twelve-year-olds. He could imagine how big a fight they had to put up to get permission to go out without Mom and Dad. It was always a bit of a worry, but Mac had confirmed if there was any real Halloween trouble, it was more likely to come from the bar or maybe a house party. The kids were pretty safe here. They sent out all the standard safety pleas to the community—stay in groups, don’t eat unwrapped candy, don’t get in any car except your parents’ and don’t go inside any houses.

A couple of ninjas approached the mummy and karate kid from behind. Could be nothing, of course. But Seth exited his car, locking it, and stood in the shadows. The trick-or-treaters were about fifteen feet away from him when one of the black-clad ninjas sprinted forward, grabbed the bags of candy and kept going.

Seth crossed the street at a jog just in time to grab the fleeing ninja by the collar. He gave him a shake and he dropped the bags of candy. Seth looked around in time to see the other ninja take off, cut through the yards and disappear behind the houses while other trick-or-treaters stood rooted to the spot.

Seth gave his captive a shake. “I saw that,” he said.

“Lemme go! I didn’t do nothin’!”

“Nice try,” Seth said, dragging him away from the spilled bags of candy. “Hey, you boys,” he yelled to the victims. “You want your candy?”

They stepped forward hesitantly. Seth had to hang on to the squirming ninja for a long moment. He pulled him back so the smaller kids would have plenty of space to retrieve their candy. He could see they were very nervous. They just scooped spilled candy into the bags without investigating it closely.

“Do you know this kid?” he asked the victims. He ripped the stocking cap off the ninja’s head. The kids, a year or two younger, just shook their heads. “You know what it means when someone rips off your Halloween candy on a dark street?” Again they shook their heads. “It means it’s time to go home. It means the party is over. Want me to follow you home, make sure no more ninjas are waiting for you?” Still silent, they continued to shake their heads. “Then go,” he said. “Fast.”

They ran like greased lightning.

Seth dragged his ninja to his patrol car and stood him up against it. “Here’s what I need from you,” he said. “Your full name, your address, the name of your accomplice and his address.”

His culprit, a freckle-faced kid of about twelve, just a big kid, stared at Seth in sheer terror for a second. And then he lunged and made to run. Seth took a couple of long-legged steps and grabbed his collar again. “Sorry, pal. That’s not going to work. Do I need cuffs?”

The kid shook his head. Then he started to cry.

That’s better, Seth thought. “Your name?”

“Robert,” he said. “Bobby.”

“Last name?”

“Delaney,” he said. He sniffed and wiped his nose on his sleeve.

I’m cursed, Seth thought. He sighed. “Your parents home?”

“Just my mom.”

Crap, he thought. Just what I need. “All righty then, let’s go see your mom. I’ll need an address, if you please.”

“Aw, man...”

Seth put him in the passenger seat and told him not to touch anything if he wanted to keep that arm.

Charlie Adams had come on duty at five and was going to be in town, doing the same thing Seth had been doing until trick-or-treating was over for the evening. He called his cell rather than using the radio. “I’m going to be out for a few minutes, delivering a juvenile to his parents.”