Fourth Street was easy to survey because it was a short clip of a street hidden between a freeway, a college/cultural center and an industrial complex. No one really knew it was there unless they knew it was there. The coming and goings of residents and visitors could be monitored in a simple formulaic manner.
Brackus found Fourth Street a pain in the ass to keep under surveillance because everyone watched everything happening on the street. The unfamiliar was noted, strangers were boldly asked what they wanted and helpful neighbors guided friends and family to the right door. Anyone home during the day pretty much knew who he was and why he was there.
Bronx had begun to take this duty seriously. He could see the importance of keeping the street safe. The neighbors had easily accepted him as part of the street, but trusted him more now that he kept watch. From his stoop, Bronx questioned anyone who was not familiar to him. His aged friendly tone, slight limp and dark glasses offered him a mask from which to ask, "Who you know here?"
Seeing Brackus parked off the next block gave Bronx a moments pause. Then he shrugged it off. One thing he wouldn't do was interfere in a domestic situation. Especially when one of the spouses was FBI.
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