The autumn wind in Oak Street Park carried the crisp smell of damp earth and fallen leaves.

Seth was sitting alone on a green wooden bench by the duck pond in his dark electrician’s coat.

When he saw me crossing the grass, he stood up quickly and rubbed the back of his neck with his right hand.

“Natalie,” Seth said, his tone overly relaxed as he tried to smile.

“Thanks for coming to meet me.”

I stopped three feet from the bench, keeping my hands in my coat pockets.

“You said on the phone you had something important to tell me, Seth,” I said, keeping my words clear and precise.