Escapee
Dennis Santibanez IS dressed and ready to go to work. But the minute he steps out of the gate of his apartment row, he senses, as a mouse senses the presence of a cat, that he is being watched.
He does not bother to look up, to scan the sidewalks and hedges for an unfamiliar face or vehicle, or anything else out of the ordinary.
Thinking quickly now. He rummages through his dental kit and pretends that he has forgotten something, shoves a free hand into his jeans pocket and fishes out his house keys. Then, he heads back inside the gate, back to his apartment.
He closes the door behind him, locks and bolts it. He drops the kit to the floor, runs his fingers repeatedly through his hair, smoothing it, rumpling it, then smoothing it again. He starts pacing, back and forth, bouncing on the balls of his feet, thumbs drumming a nervous rhythm on either thigh.