From his prying spot across the street, he watched as the two of them shuffled around near the open doorway. It all looked innocent enough until the young man grew agitated or upset about something. The woman pushed ahead, her brisk pace bringing her to the sidewalk ahead of him.

What was going on?

Curious.

Now, the man and the girl argued on the street like a couple of temperamental teenagers. He wished he could make out what they were saying, but he was too far away.

When he first saw the police car parked at Wagner’s apartment building, he had hung around to see what all the fuss was about, but now he was left with more questions than answers. It didn’t make any sense. What were they doing here? Were they tenants? What were these two arguing about?

As they met up on the sidewalk, he retreated a few steps, pretending to read the blue and gold-rimmed plaque that sat outside the museum on his side of the street. He should have probably gone back inside straight away, he knew, but his curiosity got the better of him.

He simply had to know. What were they up to?

He had just come out of The Historical Society Museum when he first saw them across the street. He figured he had time to spare and he could just play the dumb tourist. That no one would be the wiser. No one would suspect anything. He could be just some guy reading the sign posted outside the museum like any other tourist would. He’d seen it so many times before living here. The tourists stopping, oohing and ahhing over the plaque, and then snapping their silly photos of the plaque with their Smartphones.

Besides, he had just come out of the museum so it’s not like it was a complete white lie. There was some truth to it.

But, forget all that. What was happening?

The man shouted now. He repeated the same thing over and over again. What was it? A name? Yes, he was calling to the girl. She was on the move again. What is it? What’s her name?

Ava? Yes.

Such a pretty name for such a pretty girl. Fiery red hair. Not too tall, but not too short, either. Slender and fit.

Forget her.

Who was he?

Who was this guy?

Now that he had a good look at him, he didn’t appear to be as young as he had previously thought. Late-20s maybe. Short-cropped brown hair. Average height and build. They didn’t look like cops, so what were they doing here with the police?

Why were they here? Why now? Had he missed something important? He’d been so careful, though.

No, this wouldn’t do. This wouldn’t do at all.