CHAPTER 7Trying not to think of the cold, I kept my eyes on the house from across the road. I pretended to be waiting for someone. Whenever a passerby approached, I glanced at my watch and then scrutinized the street.
Clouds scuttled across the rusty, dying sun and darkened the sky so that it seemed to be evening. The flickering shadow and light gave an end-of-the-world aura to even the good section of town, proving, to my momentary satisfaction, that man’s best was no match for nature’s worst. In other lights, the Knowler house had an expansive, welcoming appearance. Welcoming, that is, to the right people. The red brick, trimmed with white and field stone, gave the house a faintly Southern appearance. But now, on its high elevation, surrounded by what looked like acres of lawn, it remin
