Silas stood there for another full five minutes. He watched the street, checking every angle, just to be absolutely sure.
I walked up to him, my heart still hammering a frantic rhythm in my chest. “Thank you,” I breathed, tears welling in my eyes. “Thank you so much.”
He turned to me and gave a stiff, polite nod.
“Just making sure the neighborhood stays clean, ma’am,” he said, his voice a low, gravelly rumble. Then he uncrossed his arms, turned around, and went right back to hauling trash cans as if nothing had happened.
I walked up to Kinsley’s door and knocked hard. When she answered, looking confused, I didn’t scold her. I didn’t yell.
I just sat with her on the porch steps and pulled up the video she had posted. I pointed out the house number. I pointed out the street sign. I explained the black car.
