Daniel had me followed for four months.
Every day, I went to the clinic, the grocery store, and my apartment. On weekends, I volunteered with the church's children's aid program. My life was so monotonous that the young officers assigned to watch me started yawning.
Then, on the first Sunday in November, I bought three bouquets of white anemones and drove to the cemetery north of town.
They thought I had not noticed the gray sedan behind me.
I went to Nathan's grave first.
His headstone was clean, and flowers from his mother and sister lay beside it. I did not touch them. I simply set down the anemones.
"I'm sorry."
The listening device hidden in my collar transmitted my voice back to the car. A young officer had planted it the day before when he bumped into me at a coffee shop. He
