The morning air had a sharp bite to it, and frost covered the dead grass along the edge of the sidewalk.

Our driveway was empty except for Richard’s blue pickup parked by the garage door.

I looked up and down the street.

Mrs.

Gable was walking her terrier two houses down, but she kept her face turned toward the park.

A delivery van came around the corner but rolled past our mailbox without slowing.

I took my key ring out of my coat pocket and found the spare silver key to the truck.

Richard had given it to me five years earlier when we bought it.