So you've made your way through the cold December night to the home of the now deceased Deputy Marsha Cross. It takes you maybe 20 minutes, and I'm assuming you don't have the car. Peggy probably took it to work, or wherever.
It's a small modest home, white with blue trim, and it appears almost ghostly in the darkness. The feeling of menace sits around it like a heavy cloak. Around it also are other homes. You can see lights on in them. Warm lights as well as the cool blue flickers of television sets.
Have you been talking or quiet? What thoughts are going through your heads? And how, exactly are you going about this?