Chapter 13

The Krasowski home was on the west side of Clint Street, at Forsyth, and backed on to the ravine.

The overgrowth of trees from the nearby woods made the scene quite lovely, though Abigail had to admit the property looked a little run down.

She leaned on the doorbell, and Timothy stood on the porch and tried to peer through the

window. I can't see anybody in there, he said. There's a light on, but I don't think anybody is at home.

Just great, Abigail said. Here, you keep on the doorbell. I'm going to go down the side and look at the yard.

Don't you ever learn? Timothy asked, flustered. I won't go in, Abigail promised. I'll just look.

She took the tape recorder out of her bag and leaned over the wire gate at the side, holding the chirping player as far into the small yard as she could.

There was nothing moving, except an old clothesline swaying in the wind.

She could see that an upstairs window was open, and held the player as high as she could for two or three minutes, but Ezekiel

failed to appear. She headed back to the front, where Timothy was sitting on the steps waiting.

I told you to ring the bell, Abigail said, frowning. I did ring the bell, Timothy said.

Ring it again, she said, a little frustrated to be this close. Don't be bossy, he said. I am bossy because I am also the boss, Abigail reminded him.

Abigail, there's nobody home,' Timothy sighed.

Abigail kicked a patch of grass and sat down beside him.

"'I know,' she admitted.

"'I guess we'll just have to wait,' Timothy said.

"'There's no point looking somewhere else when we know we're almost at the finish line.'

"'I don't think Ezekiel is in there,' Abigail admitted.' somewhere else when we know we're almost at the finish line.

I don't think Ezekiel is in there, Abigail admitted. Her jaw clenched in frustration.

I was playing the tape as loud as I could, and there was no sign of him at the window.

Maybe the cat is in the basement, or a back room,' Timothy said.

...