The women in the Liber family don't sleep at Half-Way House often, on account of the mice and rats, but their children have spent countless summer days here over the decades, marking their height in pencil by the doorjamb and tracking thick, black mud into the bunks when the breathless sunsets finally called it quits. No one loved this shipping-container-sized shack in rural Salem County — one of seven that sit on Hope and Half-Way Creeks and surrounding tidal tributaries — more than Lewis Liber, who'd hole up weeks at a time.