I stood on a concrete curb behind a chain-link fence in an industrial lot in Norwalk and watched my daughter have a nice time with a dead man, and it was so much worse than anything I had driven there expecting.

Because a frightened child knows something is wrong.

A frightened child can be got out and told it was not her fault and be believed.

What I was looking at was a seven-year-old who liked her grandfather.

The questions came about twenty minutes in, and if I had not been standing at that window looking for something, I would not have registered them at all.

He had a manila folder.