The Wrong Man

I rocked back in my seat. I had dozens of questions, but letting her speak made more sense.

“And something else,” she added coldly.

“What is that?”

“The crime restores i

“Ashley, right?”

She smiled. “Of course.”

34

The semifinal game went to penalty kicks.

Sports, she thought, devises many cruel endings, but this was certainly among the harshest. Hope’s team had clearly been outma

Luck was not with them. Hope’s fifth shooter, her captain, all-league and all-region, who had never missed a penalty in four years on varsity, rang her shot off the crossbar, and with that single evil noise of ball resounding against metal, the season ended. Just like that, as sudden as a heart attack. The girls on the other team all squealed with unbridled joy and rushed forward to embrace their keeper, who had not once touched the ball in the entire shoot-out. Hope saw her own player fall to her knees in the muddy field, before dropping her head into her hands and bursting into tears. The other girls were equally stricken, and Hope could feel her own emotions stretched thin, but she still managed to tell them, “Do not leave your teammate alone out there. You win as a team, you lose as a team. Go remind her.”

The girls all ran-Hope had no idea where they got the energy-to surround their captain. Hope was proud of all of them in that moment. Wi

Although she didn’t know it, the parking spot on the street that Hope slid her car into was precisely the spot Matthew Murphy had chosen to keep watch on Michael O’Co

She guessed that if she stayed put in the car that after a few minutes he would undoubtedly spot her.

Assume he knows everything, she reminded herself. Assume he knows what you look like and has memorized every detail of your four-year-old compact car, right down to the license plate number.

Hope remained frozen in her seat, until she imagined she appeared so obvious that wearing fake glasses would be irrelevant. She glanced down at Murphy’s report, took another long look at the photograph of O’Co

She stole a look toward Michael O’Co

She took a deep breath and felt utterly incompetent.

Useless, useless, she said to herself. Go back, find some spot in an alley or behind a tree, and wait him out. Have as much patience as O’Co

Shaking her head, she turned and walked back around the corner, her eyes sca

The old woman seemed the very definition of harmless. She was moving along painfully slowly. She was short and stumpy, and wore a dowdy black wool overcoat that was probably twenty years old and had a multihued knit hat on her head. Both her hands were gripping white plastic grocery bags, weighed down with foodstuffs. But Hope could see the old woman’s eyes flash as she spotted Michael O’Co

Hope clung to a tree across the narrow street from where O’Co

The woman tried to lift a hand, still clutching the grocery bag, and waggled a finger in his direction.

“I know you!” she said loudly. “I know what you’re doing!”

“You don’t know shit about me,” O’Co

“I know you’re doing something to my cats. I know you’re stealing them. Or worse! You are a nasty, evil man, and I should call the police on you!”

“I haven’t done anything to your damn cats. Maybe they’ve found some other crazy old woman to feed them. Maybe they don’t like the food you leave out. Maybe they just found better accommodations elsewhere, you old bitch. Now leave me alone, and be careful that I don’t call the health authorities on you, because they will sure as hell seize all those mangy goddamn cats, take them all out, and kill them.”

“You are a cruel, heartless man,” the old woman said stiffly.

“Get out of my way and go screw yourself,” O’Co

“I know what you’re doing!” the old woman repeated, shouting after him.

O’Co

Hope saw the old woman gasp and step back as if she’d been struck. O’Co