after listening for a while I was sure the sound was from either a radio or a television - not live people. I didn't remember a tv or radio in there but now I felt safe enough to open the door. the mirror was almost still, reflecting just the net curtain. speakers - the sound was coming from the two dusty black speakers on the empty bookshelves. a local radio station. it was soft and fuzzy, much quieter than it had seemed from outside the door. there was no radio attached to the speakers, just an old amplifier. perhaps the speakers were picking up the signal through electrical interference. it was a quiet conversation about a WWII protest action, the recount of someone who had helped to turn back the Fascists on a suburban street.

the streets were wet, running with water, shining with coloured light. the drains were full and gurgling. I hd an idea of the route Lacey would take on her morning walks with Jose, down to the park by the lake and I planned to follow it. There were so many ways she could have been caught along the way, or even distracted.

construction crew at the end of the street