That evening, Nora mentioned the man to Rose while they ate boxed macaroni at the kitchen table. Rose asked the right questions, as calmly as she could, and Nora told her about the gray clothing and the mark on the cuff. Rose called the school's main office the next morning and was promised that a staff member would check the area. When no one called back, she assumed the matter had been handled because she had too much else demanding her attention to imagine otherwise.
On the day of the rattling door, Rose left for County General before dawn. Nora was still sleepy when her mother kissed her forehead, but she woke enough to ask whether she could bring her new drawing to the garage. Rose said yes and reminded her to stay with Miller or Lucas if anyone came she didn't know. "I always do," Nora murmured, and turned her face back toward the pillow.
By late afternoon, the air had gone heavy with the promise of rain. Wind pushed leaves along Leighton Street, and the first drops struck the garage windows before the last customer departed. Miller closed the service invoices and told the crew there was enough leftover stew for everyone. Someone turned on classic rock, and Jojo announced that the stew would taste better if nobody asked what had gone into it.
Nora sat with her coloring book while the room settled into its familiar evening rhythm. She could distinguish Lucas's measured steps from Jojo's louder ones and the soft squeak of Walsh's work shoes as he moved between the bench and the electrical cabinet. She could also hear a sound that did not belong to any of them. It came from behind the storage door, a scrape so slight that she thought at first a cardboard box was shifting on a shelf.
She watched the door carefully. It was not supposed to be open during dinner, because Miller had locked the storage area after a parts delivery, and the alley entrance beyond it had been secured before the rain began. Twice the door moved a fraction against the latch. Then came a deliberate pause, long enough for Nora to understand that whatever made the sound was waiting for the music to rise again.
When she whispered her warning to Lucas, he did something she would remember years later. He did not laugh, call her brave, or ask her to prove she knew what she was talking about. He set down his sandwich, placed his beer out of reach, and looked toward the door. Then he held up one hand and asked the room to turn off the music.