Emily pulled her ponytail over her right shoulder and took a little sip of cold tea from her paper cup.

I was standing five feet off at the edge of the grass with a white paper plate holding a hot dog and a folded paper napkin.

Trent Caldwell came off his front porch and crossed the cul-de-sac pavement straight toward us, a heavy black canvas gym bag slung over his shoulder.

He stopped six feet from me and let the heavy bag fall onto the grass with a dull thump.

He slowly unzipped the main pocket, his eyes fixed on my face the whole time.