As soon as I was cleared, I swung the cruiser back toward the stretch of road where I’d stopped the walker earlier. The sidewalk was empty. No figure under the streetlight. No steady pace disappearing into the distance. Just the hum of the engine and the soft orange glow washing over cracked pavement.
I slowed, then stopped completely, scanning the alleys and side streets. Nothing. I drove the block once. Then again. I told myself he could’ve turned off anywhere. Still, the absence pressed harder than it should have. People didn’t vanish like that. Not without running. Not without a sound. Who walks twenty miles to work?