by midnight, everyone was asleep, except maybe Dr. Petit, who had brought some paperwork down to the sunroom. his youngest, Michaela, took his place in the master bedroom next to her mom. Hayley had read herself to sleep with the newest Harry Potter, the poster on the wall of the WNBA star, Swin Cash, keeping watch.
soon the lids of Dr. Petit's eyes too began to fall. the sounds outside the sunroom: the gentle rustle of the leaves on the trees in the backyard, the click of the crickets, folded into the rhythm of his breath.
if Dr. Petit heard the van slowly roll by the house at 3 a.m., it was part of the soundtrack of his dreams.
driving the van was the young man with the auburn hair and the raven tattoos. besides him sat a man almost twenty years his senior, bald and heavyset. they both wore dark, hooded sweatshirts.
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