Cesar comes to a stop, mouth dropping open. For an eternity, his mind is filled with the sight of the fiberglass rat, and all the little pieces of the puzzle are flying together, like an old film showing a rewind of a tree's leaves falling.

L starts walking again. Cesar is significantly less subtle, and frees one hand from a pocket to wave at the car. Then he starts walking again, raking fingers through the hair at his temples in agitation. Did that really just happen? Did he really put both of them on a useless venture by not having done his own research on his own neighbor? He's seen that truck! He should have realized it belonged there.

Cesar draws even with L, looking exhausted and discouraged.

If L doesn't break the silence first, Cesar will eventually call his attention. {I'm sorry,} he'll say, and he seems to mean it. {I had no idea. My fault.}