After my second right, I was on the street parallel to Blake’s, where the backyards of the houses ran up to the rear of his duplex. His sat in the middle of the block, and I could guess about where it was without being able to see it. When I reached that spot, I saw someone, a man, walking between the two houses that faced the street where I was driving. I slowed, curious. Was he a cable guy? A repairman?

He walked quickly with his head down, the collar of his jacket turned up high. He reminded me of myself slinking through Jennifer’s neighborhood less than twelve hours earlier. The man’s hair was dark. He had a beard.

Was it Blake? Had he been waiting for the cop to leave so he could go home? This man’s hair was shorter than Blake’s, but maybe Blake had changed his look?

I wouldn’t have put it past him to call 911 to create a diversion to draw the cops away from his house.

So I turned right and then right again until I pulled up in front of Blake’s house, stopping where the cop car had been parked. I looked and didn’t see the man anymore, but if it was Blake, I couldn’t let him go.

I turned the car off, climbed out, and started up the driveway toward the house.

CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE

I expected Blake—or whoever it was—to emerge from behind the duplex, but he didn’t. I went to the front door and pushed the bell several times in a row. Then knocked and knocked, so hard my knuckles hurt.

But no one came. I tried the knob, and it was locked, refusing to budge.

The curtains were closed, eliminating any chance to see inside. I looked behind me, both up and down the street, expecting to see the cop coming back and catching me on the porch, but the street remained empty and quiet.

Had something happened in the back of the duplex? Or was Blake back there smoking a cigarette and staring at the sky?

I left the porch and went around the side of the house, heading for the back. It wasn’t lost on me that I suddenly seemed to be a guy who spent his time slinking around other people’s houses like a burglar.

My shoes skimmed over the bright green grass. The sun was bright, the sky clear. A beautiful day I couldn’t enjoy. When I came into the backyard, I saw nothing. No sign of Blake or anyone else. Had I imagined the presence of that figure slipping between the houses?

But I knew Blake and Samantha had a back door, one that opened into their kitchen. Had Blake just gone in through there and decided to ignore me at the front door? Had he thought I was the cops?