Tia s only been here ten years, maybe some day she ll get used to it vampire-slaying Buffies, Purple Barnies, pillowcase goblins and alike, knocking at her door. Auntie Angie s dead serious about dead dudes. Auntie s only been here ten years, there s no way she would know what happened in that odd little gray house across Center Street. And, neither s there any point in me telling her. Auntie knows it already, knows it in her bones, what that buta named Brudos did to five young women he drug out of parking lots and into that horrible garage.
Facts add nothing.
Tia Angie won t face that ugly little house, when we pass it on the far side of Center Street. Straight ahead, she looks, as we drive eastbound, headed for Target. Sunday Statesman Journal s Target insert s on her lap. Dumb smile, on my face. Here, refers to traditional order under customary law, village elders.