There were lights on in his house, but the curtains were drawn. It was that way all up and down the block. Maybe there was someone home waiting for him, maybe a whole family. I didn’t know; I didn’t want to know. I tried not to think about it. I tried to concentrate on the small shadow in front of me.

I quickened my pace. I didn’t walk hard and I didn’t walk fast, but he could hear me behind him. I could hear his shoes stutter step on the concrete and I knew he could hear me. I didn’t walk faster, but kept pace with him, his silhouette the same distance ahead of me, moving down the slight hill. I could have caught up with him, but I thought I’d wait until he went up the other hill. Or if he turned back, he’d have to come up the hill toward me. I thought I knew what I was doing. I thought I had it figured out.

He was at the bottom of the hill and I quickened my pace. He kept walking, not changing his speed. It would be better like this, better for Froehmer. He wanted a message and he’d get one, left there on the sidewalk for everyone to see. I had shortened the distance between us to maybe twenty feet when a car came down the street behind me. I moved off the sidewalk and tried to stay in the dark. But he was lit up for longer than I would have liked. I didn’t want to see him. I didn’t want to see his worried face as he looked back toward the car. He was almost asking for help, but the car kept on going, returning us both to the dark, with only the dim lights from the houses, pulled tight behind their curtains.

He stopped at the corner and stood under a streetlight and waited. I thought he was daring me to do it right there, but I stayed in the shadows. He looked at his watch and I didn’t move. After a few minutes a car came and my target got in and the car drove off. It was all unusual.

I ran up the hill thinking I could beat the car back to his house, but I had no idea where they were going.

No one had beaten me. No one had come, no one was coming.