Then, two houses down and across the street from Winters’s place, she spotted a man leaning against a tree.

He wasn’t exactly hiding, but close enough. He had positioned himself in such a way that the tree blocked the light from the nearest streetlamp, creating a dark shadow that all but enveloped him. His short height made her think that he might be a teenager, but her gut said no. In her mind, a giant sign hung above him, reading DOESN’T BELONG.

Without missing a step, she continued down the sidewalk, one arm wrapped around her chest as if she was fighting off the cool night, the other draped at her side, her hand resting near the opening of her bag inches from the grip of the Glock.

When she’d closed to within ten feet of the man, she glanced at the ground pretending to check her footing. She stayed that way until she was abreast of him, then looked back up, her gaze swinging to the left like one might naturally do. She stopped abruptly, her eyes wide, staring at the man.

“My God, you scared me,” she said.

“Sorry,” the man said, not moving from the shadow.

Up close, the darkness did not mask him completely, and she could see he must have spent a lot of time in the weight room. No doubt, she guessed, to compensate for his lack of stature.

“It’s okay.” Petra let out a nervous laugh. “It’s just you’re kind of hidden there.”

The man smiled without showing his teeth, but remained otherwise silent. His attention seemed to be focused more on the house across the street than on her.

“Nice night, huh?” Petra said.

He responded the same way he had before.

After a moment, she smiled and started walking off. “Have a good evening.”

At the next block she turned left. As soon as she was out of sight, she stopped and turned around. She almost expected to see him standing behind her, but the sidewalk was empty.