50Relieved by my conversation with Tom, I drove happily home, the tasty memory of the potato-onion-and-pepper fry-up still fresh on my tongue.
I parked the Volvo in the garage. Crossed the street to my neighbor’s three-story white vinyl-sided townhome.
He has the same floor plan, but reversed. My office windows face his office windows. Our upper-level master suites overlook grassy common areas behind our homes.
I pressed the illuminated button beside his front door. A full minute passed before I heard the dead bolt unlock.
Unmarried, Kevin Cruikshank lives alone. When he heard the bell ring, he must’ve been on the upper level.
The man’s five-ten and weighs at least two hundred pounds.
I imagined him lumbering down two flights of stairs.
When the door opened, he was breathing hard. B
