I turn the corner and we drive down a quiet suburban street. It’s not the best neighborhood, to put it charitably. A broken swing dangles forlornly from the set by a single rusted chain. The paint on the houses is faded and cracked, windows covered up with decrepit bars.
“The one with the yellow fence,” Jennifer points out.
I park on the curb and step out. As I do, I see a pale face in the corner window. It disappears instantly and the curtain snaps closed.
I grimace. Gavin brought me the simplest car in my garage, and it still sticks out like a sore thumb. We won’t stay under the radar here for much longer.
Jennifer walks up to the front door and knocks hard. Nobody answers.
She gives it a minute and then knocks again. Still nothing.
Another minute, another round of knocking, more s
