This Chase was dressed in expensive designer clothes. His shoes looked like they cost more than everything I had paid him all summer.
There was an expensive-looking watch on his wrist. His clothes were spotless.
Even the way he carried himself seemed different. Confident. Comfortable.
Nothing about him suggested a teenager struggling to earn a few dollars while living with his mother in a trailer park.
My first instinct was to walk over and demand an explanation. Instead, I stayed back.
I wanted to see what he would do. Chase finished shopping and walked outside.
I followed several yards behind him. He crossed the parking lot and headed toward a brand-new black SUV.
Then he opened the passenger door and climbed inside. That was when I stopped pretending there might be some innocent explanation.
I hurried toward the SUV and knocked on the passenger-side window. Chase turned around.
The instant he saw me, all the color seemed to disappear from his face.
His eyes widened. He looked terrified. Before he could lower the window or say a single word, the SUV pulled away.
For half a second, I stood frozen in the parking lot. Then I ran back to my own car.
I started the engine. And I followed them. Because by then, one thing was painfully clear.
Chase had lied to me about who he was. And whatever reason kept bringing him back to my property every week had nothing to do with earning money by mowing my lawn.
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