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"I want you to go to the police," he stated finally, peering up from beneath the brim of his hat. "If you tell them your story, especially about the locket, they'll take a fresh interest in the case. There's no statute of limitations on murder, you know. And if they find some new leads…" His voice wobbled. He stiffened, soldiered on.

"I got a heart condition, A

And then he started crying, giant, heaving sobs that made strangers stop in bewilderment. I put my arms around his shoulders. He grabbed on to me so hard, he almost pulled me to the ground. But I braced myself against his weight, felt the waves of his rough, violent grief.

Bella whined, prancing nervously, pawing at my leg. All I could do was wait.

Eventually he straightened, wiping at his face, tightening the belt of his coat, adjusting the brim of his hat. He wouldn't look at me anymore. I didn't expect him to.

"I'll go to the police," I promised him, an easy pledge, since I'd already done so. "You never know. Forensic science is getting better all the time; maybe they've already made an important discovery."

"Well, there is that pit over in Mattapan," he mumbled. "Six bodies. Who knows, maybe we'll get lucky." His face spasmed. "Lucky! Do you hear me? Christ, this is no way to live."

I didn't comment. I sneaked a quick glance at my watch. I'd been gone twenty minutes. I was probably as good as fired anyway. What were a few minutes more?

"Mr. Petracelli, did you ever see the Peeping Tom?"

He shook his head.

"But you believed the man existed, right? That someone was living in Mrs. Watts's attic, keeping tabs on me?"

He regarded me strangely "Well, I don't think Mrs. Watts and your father would make up something like that. Besides, the police found the man's camping supplies in Mrs. Watts's home. That seems real enough to me."

"So you never got a look at the guy? Saw him for yourself?"

He shook his head. "Nah, but two days after the discovery of the stuff in Mrs. Watts's attic, we had a neighborhood meeting. Your father circulated a description of the Peeping Tom, along with a list of 'presents' you had received and when they had arrived. He told us there wasn't much the police could do; until something criminal actually happened, their hands were tied. Of course, we were all infuriated, especially those of us with kids. We voted to establish a Neighborhood Watch program. We'd just had our first meeting, in fact, when your dad a

"Do you happen to have those handouts? The description of the Peeping Tom my father circulated? I mean, I know it's been a long time, but…"

Mr. Petracelli smiled softly, "A

"May I have a copy?" I was already reaching into my bag, fumbling for one of my business cards.

"I'll do my best."

"Mr. Petracelli, you said you knew my father for five years. Were you the one who was new to the neighborhood, or were we?"

"Your family arrived in '77. Lana and I'd been there since she was pregnant with Dori. We'd heard a rumor that a family was moving in with a daughter Dori's age. Lana had just gotten the cookies out of the oven when the U-Haul showed up. She marched right over with snickerdoodles in hand and Dori in tow. You girls became inseparable from that very afternoon. We had your parents over for di

I smiled at him to encourage further reminiscences. "Oh, really? I honestly don't remember. Guess I was too young."

"You were, what, eighteen months, two years old? Had that great toddler waddle. You and Dori used to chase each other around our house, screaming at the top of your lungs. Lana would shake her head, saying it was a wonder you didn't trip over your own feet." Mr. Petracelli was smiling. No wonder he was so tormented. In spite of his earlier statement, he remembered the past vividly, as if it were an old photograph he viewed often.

"Where did my family move from? Do you know?"

"Philly. Your dad had been with the University of Pe

"I never understood my father's job much either," I murmured. "Teaching math always sounded so boring to me. I remember I used to pretend he was with the FBI."

Mr. Petracelli laughed. "Russell? Not likely. I've never met a man so squeamish about firearms. At that Neighborhood Watch meeting, a bunch of us discussed buying guns for protection. Your dad wouldn't hear of it. 'It's bad enough some man has brought fear to my house,' he insisted. 'I'll be damned if I'll let him bring violence, too.' Nah, your dad was a liberal academic to the core. Can't we talk this out, give peace a chance, and all that crap."

"Did you buy a gun?"

"I did. Little did I know, I should have sent it with Dori to Lawrence." Mr. Petracelli's face twisted again, the bitterness getting the best of him. His breathing had grown shallower, strained. I wondered about his heart.

"Lana said your parents died," he said abruptly

"Yes, sir."

"When?"

I considered his question, where he was going with this. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe."

"Why?"

His lips thi

"All the way to Florida."

"And your father really got a job there? That's why you stayed?"

"He drove a taxi. Not the same as being a professor, but I believe he thought the trade-off was worthwhile."

The news seemed to surprise Mr. Petracelli. That my father had been willing to surrender his academic career, or that my father hadn't lied about getting a job? I wasn't sure. He blinked. "Sorry," he said after a moment, "guess I'm just getting paranoid in my old age. It's easy to do, considering I wake up screaming most nights."

The rain had started to spatter down again. Mr. Petracelli was already turning to go. I stopped him by putting my hand on his arm. "Why did you ask about my father, Mr. Petracelli? What do you need to know?"

"It's just… after Dori disappeared, a neighbor reported seeing a man driving an unmarked white van in the area, even gave the police a description of the guy. Lana never agreed with me, of course, but my first thought?"

"Yes?"

"Short dark hair, ta

For a moment, I didn't get it. Then, as his i

"Yeah, A

He flung my arm back at me. I fell to the wet sidewalk, bruised fingers tucked protectively against my chest while Bella went into a paroxysm of barking. I grabbed her, trying to steady her, steady me.