After work I went and bought a broom and some cheap clothes at Walmart. I bought too-big shoes and some oversized coveralls, a bag of socks and a baseball cap. I bought a box of nitrile gloves and a spool of thin steel wire at a Home Depot. I put everything in the trunk, still in the bags, all of it in a large garbage bag. I went home and slept most of the night and then went over and parked near the target’s house. I was too late. The car was already gone. I figured that on my day off, the first night all week I didn’t watch all night and early morning, he’d be an early riser. That was all right. He’d be back, and I had the time to wait him out.

The car pulled into the driveway in the early afternoon and the man from the photograph got out.

He was about Froehmer’s age. He had graying hair and had on a zippered windbreaker, with shorts and sneakers. He had a basketball under one arm. He was stocky and short; he might have been an athlete once, but he didn’t play basketball.

He went into the house and I didn’t see him again for another four hours. He was out of his workout gear, but with the same jacket, and he got into his car and I followed him to an assisted living facility.

I waited for him to enter the building and I went into the parking lot and watched. He’d parked near a security camera on the side of the building. That camera was ancient, at least a decade old, and hadn’t filmed anything in years, if ever. I ran a check on the building anyway. It was all for show.

He was inside for a couple of hours, past dinner and past the last of the day. The lot was emptying out and covered in circles of artificial light. I moved my car behind another parked car so I couldn’t be seen by anyone walking from the building. When he drove home, I followed him. He went back into his house and I didn’t see him again until the next morning.