“He’s here,” she said. Her voice was a strange combination of anger and panic. My father parked the car and looked out the window. “Where?” “Right there, can’t you see him? On his own, on the side there.” My father nodded, and I looked too. There was a man sitting hunched on a low brick wall. A tall skinny guy who reminded me of Ichabod Crane from “The Legend of Sleepy Hollow.”
Toby.
