10:37 p.m. Tuesday night.
The back road was empty next to the neighborhood that was developing about a mile away from the city. Light could be seen from a handful of windows and street lamps scattered across the the cul-de-sacs. A single streetlamp at the intersection of Maple and 87th Ave., one of two roads that brought people to the neighborhood, created a cone of light that revealed the farmland filled with corn stalks on the west side of the road. It was quiet. It was safe.
10:39 p.m. Tuesday night.
In the cone of light created by the streetlamp at the intersection of Maple and 87th Ave., a man appeared as if he walked out of the darkness instead of walking on the street. If anyone saw him, they would assume he was old, homeless, and lost. He wore three layers of t-shirts underneath a vest you would find on someone who was fly fishing. He limped with an up down motion on his left side. His fingernails were dirty. His hair was white, messy. If you had the chance to talk with him, his eyes would wander, never making eye contact. He slowly walked through the light toward the city.
A set of headlights appeared in front of the man. Derrick was heading home from Sonic. He had stopped to get a slushie after playing basketball at the YMCA. A group of school friends were hanging out, so he had decided to stay for a while. He texted his parents to ask if he could be home by 11:00. They were fine with it. Derrick was feeling good, music a little loud.
Derrick was surprised to see the man walking down 87th Ave. He released the gas a little as he moved over to the left lane to give the man space. As Derrick passed the man, he made the assumption that he was homeless and forgot about him as he turned right onto Maple, then right again onto Spruce Ct. Which was one of six cul-de-sacs in the neighborhood. Derrick’s home faced 87th Ave. There was an empty lot between the his house and 87th Ave. As Derrick reached up to push the button on the garage door opener, he saw the man, still on the avenue, but now facing him. There was just enough light from the streetlamp to see him. Derrick never noticed that he could actually see all of the man, even though the light should have only exposed the man’s left side. For a second, Derrick thought about locking his doors. The garage door was slowly opening, revealing the light from the garage door opener. Derrick’s attention moved to driving the car forward. The idea of getting ready for bed and the homework he probably should do before going to bed replaced the man in his mind. Derrick started to take his foot off the brake when motion outside his window drew his attention.
Derrick looked quickly outside the driver side window to see the man standing there. A slight smile on his grimy face, eyes still unfocused, and his hands moving up toward the window. Derrick had just enough time to register everything before the shattering of glass made him let go of the steering wheel to shield his face. His car moved slowly forward into the garage to bang into the fridge the family used to hold drinks like Gatorade, water, and sometimes extra beer. The impact was loud enough to wake Derrick’s mom, June.
June shook her husband, Robert. He grumbled then turned over. June got up, grabbed her robe from the hope chest at the end of the bed. She assumed she would run into her son in the hallway, but the house was still dark and quiet. She thought she could hear Derrick’s car still running in the garage. June felt that motherly instinct in her gut that something was not right. With the bang she heard, and the car still running, she sighed heavily as she considered the possibility that Derrick might have been drinking. She had worried about this moment since Derrick started junior high. June could feel her cheeks get warm as she unexpectedly felt anger gripping her heart. It was a Tuesday night.
June continued through the living room to the hallway with the door to the garage. June could definitely hear the car running and hurried to the door. June’s anger gripped tighter around her chest as she turned the knob.
June hurried down the three stairs to the floor. Anger was replaced with panic as soon as she saw the car’s grill pressed against the refrigerator, heard music playing, and saw the shards of glass around the edge of the driver side window.
“Derrick! Robert come here!” June yelled as she pulled open the car door… to find the front seat empty.
10:43 p.m. Thursday night.
A single streetlamp at the intersection of Vine and 26th street created a cone of light that revealed the well maintained lawns. A single bark breaks the silence.
10:46 p.m. Thursday night.
In the cone of light created by the streetlamp at the intersection of Vine and 26th street, a man appeared. If anyone saw him, they would assume he was old, homeless, and lost. He wore four layers of t-shirts underneath a vest you would find on someone who was fly fishing. He limped with an up down motion on his left side. His fingernails were dirty. His hair was white, messy. If you had the chance to talk with him, his eyes would wander, never making eye contact. He slowly walked down Vine Street. Three blocks away a set of headlights appeared.
