CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The man stood staring at the little house on the opposite side of the street.
It was night, and the drapes in the front window were wide open. Although he himself was safely concealed by shadow, he could see the whole family in the well-lighted living room.
The man was sitting in his overstuffed chair staring blankly at the TV.
The two kids—a boy and a younger girl—were arguing and chasing each other around.
But it was the woman—the wife and mother—who held the man’s interest.
She was standing in an archway looking at her family. He couldn’t make out her facial expression from this distance, but her body language was plenty eloquent. Her arms were crossed and she was slouched over in an attitude of abject despair.
Life had disappointed her, he could clearly see that
