21
A Silent WitnessFOR A MOMENT, I watch Hunter at the front door until light floods the side lawn. A laughing couple, plainly drunk, staggers from the backyard. The spirited man pulls the giddy woman behind tall bushes, that shake, and shimmy with their actions. The patio's soft glow teases, inviting a stroll through the open gate.
Why not?
I could pass for a recruit. The designer cashmere, sweater-dress I'm wearing looks better than some of the girl's outfits. I remove my wool cap, brush my hair, and apply a fresh coat of makeup with one final assessment of my face. I've unwittingly convinced myself to enter the house, before considering the danger, a rash move I might regret later. Taking a deep breath, I exit the car into the brisk night; adjust the black leather belt around my hips
