Chapter 5 - The Tuxedo's Blind Spot
On the public side of the white picket fence, a man in a black tuxedo was walking at a brisk, purposeful pace.
His black bow tie was perfectly symmetrical.
His hands were shoved deeply into his trouser pockets.
He was less than ten feet away from the red brick house.
He looked directly ahead, his chin tilted slightly upward.
The violent dragging on the lawn occurred entirely within his peripheral vision.
He did not break his stride.
He did not turn his head.
Just ahead of the tuxedo man, a small boy was sitting on the curb.
The boy was wearing a bright yellow raincoat, despite the cloudless blue sky.
In his lap, he held a plastic fire truck.
The front left wheel of the truck was completely crushed, the red plastic bent and jagged.
The boy was slowly, methodically trying to force a perfectly round pebble into the crushed wheel well.
Scrape. Click.
The stone wouldn't fit.
The boy looked up.
He watched the young woman in the floral dress disappear into the dark square of the white door.
He watched the older woman pull the door shut.
The heavy thud of the door locking echoed across the street.
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The boy turned his head and looked directly at the man in the tuxedo.
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