the trunk shut and climbed back
inside his car. The engine had been running the entire time, so the cab was almost
sweltering from the forced air of the heater. He glanced at the small, plastic digital
clock that he’d stuck to his dashboard years ago. It was nearly ten-thirty.
He wondered if someone in particular would still be awake.
Chapter 4
I t was late—too late to just walk up to the front of the small house and ring the
doorbell. Sean slid around to the back, ducking under the leafless, drooping branches
of aspens. He was careful to make as little noise as possible, even as the crunching
of hardening snow accompanied every step.
As he approached the back porch, he detected a sound that resembled that of a dull,
repetitive moan funneling out from behind the house’s walls. He feared the person
he had come to see was already fast asleep, snoring.
He crept across the wooden porch, nearly losing his breath when a loud creak halted
him in his tracks. There was no audible reaction from inside, so he continued on
until he reached the back corner of the house. There, a two-pane window with its
curtains open was lit up from pulsating flashes of a television screen inside. Sean
slid his body in under the windowsill and then steadily lifted his head up like a
submarine periscope.
A subtle grin formed across his face when he spotted the image of a portly thirteen-year-old
boy with short brown hair sitting at the edge of his bed. He was watching an old
episode of Magnum, P.I . The boy was dressed in snug pajamas and his body was hunched
forward as he sat Indian-style. He appeared to have a clipboard in one hand and a
pen or pencil in the other.
Sean carefully tapped the back of his knuckles on the outside of the frosty window.
“Toby!” he said as loudly as a whisper would allow him.
There was no reaction from the child. The boy seemed totally captivated by an action
scene on TV featuring actor Tom Selleck clad in a bright Aloha shirt and inexplicably
short shorts running across a sprawling green yard with a pair of black dogs chasing
after him.
“Toby!” Sean spoke in a slightly louder, more forceful tone. He heard the moaning
noise again. It was coming from the other side of the house. This time it was louder.
He feared that he was beginning to stir Toby’s mother, who would not at all view
Sean as a welcome guest—not just at night, but any time.
Joan Parker was a single mother, doing her best to raise her son on her own, and
if there was any negative influence that she didn’t want anywhere near her boy, it
was Sean Coleman. To her, Sean embodied everything she didn’t want her son to one
day grow to be. She knew Sean the same way much of town knew him, as a crass drunk
who viewed life through a lens of bitterness. As far as she was concerned, he could
bring nothing but harm to the development of her impressionable son.
Sean dropped to a knee in the snow and slid his back up against the side of the house,
staying out of sight in case Joan happened to peer out a window. He waited for the
noise to dissipate before climbing back to his feet and lifting his head up to Toby’s
window to get the boy’s attention again.
The piercing brightness of a flashlight suddenly blinded Sean from just inside the
window. Toby Parker let out a terrifying, high-pitched scream.
Sean’s eyes bulged and he stood straight up, frantically putting his finger to his
mouth to plead for the boy’s silence.
“Oh! Hi, Sean!” spoke Toby through the glass in a demeanor so calm and contrary to
the outlandish display Sean had just witnessed that Sean half-believed it was imagined.
“Toby!” Sean heard the boy’s mother cry out in concern from the other room. “Are
you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom!” the boy loudly replied, holding back laughter as he put his hand to
his mouth. “I’m sorry about that. I just got scared by something on the television.”
Sean remained hunched forward, his eyes shifting back and forth across the
inside his car. The engine had been running the entire time, so the cab was almost
sweltering from the forced air of the heater. He glanced at the small, plastic digital
clock that he’d stuck to his dashboard years ago. It was nearly ten-thirty.
He wondered if someone in particular would still be awake.
Chapter 4
I t was late—too late to just walk up to the front of the small house and ring the
doorbell. Sean slid around to the back, ducking under the leafless, drooping branches
of aspens. He was careful to make as little noise as possible, even as the crunching
of hardening snow accompanied every step.
As he approached the back porch, he detected a sound that resembled that of a dull,
repetitive moan funneling out from behind the house’s walls. He feared the person
he had come to see was already fast asleep, snoring.
He crept across the wooden porch, nearly losing his breath when a loud creak halted
him in his tracks. There was no audible reaction from inside, so he continued on
until he reached the back corner of the house. There, a two-pane window with its
curtains open was lit up from pulsating flashes of a television screen inside. Sean
slid his body in under the windowsill and then steadily lifted his head up like a
submarine periscope.
A subtle grin formed across his face when he spotted the image of a portly thirteen-year-old
boy with short brown hair sitting at the edge of his bed. He was watching an old
episode of Magnum, P.I . The boy was dressed in snug pajamas and his body was hunched
forward as he sat Indian-style. He appeared to have a clipboard in one hand and a
pen or pencil in the other.
Sean carefully tapped the back of his knuckles on the outside of the frosty window.
“Toby!” he said as loudly as a whisper would allow him.
There was no reaction from the child. The boy seemed totally captivated by an action
scene on TV featuring actor Tom Selleck clad in a bright Aloha shirt and inexplicably
short shorts running across a sprawling green yard with a pair of black dogs chasing
after him.
“Toby!” Sean spoke in a slightly louder, more forceful tone. He heard the moaning
noise again. It was coming from the other side of the house. This time it was louder.
He feared that he was beginning to stir Toby’s mother, who would not at all view
Sean as a welcome guest—not just at night, but any time.
Joan Parker was a single mother, doing her best to raise her son on her own, and
if there was any negative influence that she didn’t want anywhere near her boy, it
was Sean Coleman. To her, Sean embodied everything she didn’t want her son to one
day grow to be. She knew Sean the same way much of town knew him, as a crass drunk
who viewed life through a lens of bitterness. As far as she was concerned, he could
bring nothing but harm to the development of her impressionable son.
Sean dropped to a knee in the snow and slid his back up against the side of the house,
staying out of sight in case Joan happened to peer out a window. He waited for the
noise to dissipate before climbing back to his feet and lifting his head up to Toby’s
window to get the boy’s attention again.
The piercing brightness of a flashlight suddenly blinded Sean from just inside the
window. Toby Parker let out a terrifying, high-pitched scream.
Sean’s eyes bulged and he stood straight up, frantically putting his finger to his
mouth to plead for the boy’s silence.
“Oh! Hi, Sean!” spoke Toby through the glass in a demeanor so calm and contrary to
the outlandish display Sean had just witnessed that Sean half-believed it was imagined.
“Toby!” Sean heard the boy’s mother cry out in concern from the other room. “Are
you okay?”
“Yeah, Mom!” the boy loudly replied, holding back laughter as he put his hand to
his mouth. “I’m sorry about that. I just got scared by something on the television.”
Sean remained hunched forward, his eyes shifting back and forth across the
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