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remember where I keep your leash!” I clicked the hook onto my dog’s collar, and he danced around me, tangling my legs in the leash. “Calm down, Watcher,” I said, laughing.
    I decided to take a shortcut to the sidewalk behind the house, so we went out to the terrace and down a seldom-used set of stairs to the back wooden gate that creaked open onto the street and sidewalk.
    We crossed the street and walked along the sidewalk. The scent of climbing roses on the park fence was scattered on the evening breeze. Then the aroma of a pipe flowed through the air. Someone nearby must be smoking, although I did not see anyone around me.
    Suddenly I heard German voices drifting from inside the park—on the other side of the iron fence—from the woods where I had seen the silhouette of a man. I paused and strained to hear. Two voices in a soft conversation and the familiar scent of pipe tobacco drifted through the trees.
    Watcher stopped, his head turned, listening. He gave one quick bark, and I put my hand on his head. “Sh, Watcher,” I whispered. Watcher stopped barking and stood alert, except for that one floppy ear. I noticed that when I spoke in whispers, Watcher often became still, as if he knew he must not bark or move.
    The voices stopped. I tried not to gaze in their direction, although I could tell they were near the fence. I started walking again, as if I had heard nothing. Once we passed the corner, we ran down the sidewalk toward the park gate.
    â€œI’ve got to see who’s in there before they have a chance to leave,” I told myself breathlessly. As I turned to go through the entrance, I looked up to see an elderly man and a youth with a dog coming down the outer pathway.The older man was smoking a pipe. I took in a breath as I recognized the young man with him. “Barret!” I didn’t mean to say his name aloud, but I was surprised to see him there.
    The two men stopped in surprise and the dog, Heidi, stood still, her eyes on Watcher and me. “Who is it?” Barret asked.
    â€œIt’s me. Wendy.”
    The older man grasped Barret’s arm, and an expression of alarm and astonishment passed over his face.
    Watcher stood close and began to bark loudly. “It’s all right, Watcher,” I said, patting his head and ears. “Sit! I mean, sitz !” Watcher looked up at me quizzically and then sat at my feet.
    â€œSo, this is the wonderful dog you told me about,” Barret said slowly. “I can tell he’s well trained—and he speaks German.” A smile broke over his face.
    The old man said nothing, but eyed me curiously.
    â€œI . . . I’m sorry if I startled you,” I apologized, and wondered if the man spoke English too. “Barret and I seem to be bumping into each other lately.” I turned to Barret. “Do you live nearby, Barret?”
    â€œNot too far away,” he replied. “My grandfather and I come here to walk the dog.” Barret gestured toward the older man, who still held on to Barret’s arm. “May I introduce my grandfather Konrad Strohkirch? I’m sorry, but I am not sure of your full name, Wendy.”
    â€œWendy Dekker.” I noticed Herr Strohkirch’s eyes widen again when I said my name. “Have we met before, sir?”
    â€œNo, I don’t believe so, but I did know your father,” Herr Strohkirch answered. “I have wanted to meet you for a very long time.” He looked at me closely. “Oh my, you resemble your mother.” He gestured to one of the park benches by the pool. “Please sit down with us here.”
    A sudden chill ran up my spine. Who really was this man who knew my name and was so eager to meet me?
    Then I knew—this was the watcher from the woods.

16
Herr Konrad Strohkirch
    T he sun was sinking rapidly behind the trees as I studied the elderly man. Could this harmless-looking old man, Barret’s grandfather,