“I’m on Eastland, a couple blocks up from that Dairy Queen? You know the one, where we’d stop sometimes after I had ballet lessons?”

I had an instant image of her, maybe ten years before, at one of her recitals, in pink tights and leotard, dancing across the stage. It had been a few years since Angie had taken ballet, but I knew the place where we would often stop for an ice cream or a chocolate shake on our way home.

“Okay, I think I know,” I said, getting out my keys and getting into the Camry. “So, how far up?”

“There’s a big apartment building, and some angled parking out front, and I’m pulled into one of those spots. On the right side, as you’re coming up?”

“Okay. It should take me ten minutes, maybe, tops. You okay there?”

“I guess.”

“You all alone?”

“Yeah.”

“Just sit tight then, lock the doors. I’ll be able to find you, and if I can’t, I’ll call you back. And if I can’t get the car started, we’ll call the auto club, get it towed to Otto’s so he can have another look at it.”

“Okay. Can you still talk to me, Dad? Can you keep talking to me while you drive up?”

“Sure, sweetheart.”

“This person, that I gave a lift to?”

“Yeah?”

“Well, it was a guy.”

“You’re kidding,” I said. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed.” I was out of the Metropolitan lot now, heading west. “Someone from class?”

“Yeah, we’ve got a couple lectures together.”

“He got a name?”

“Cam. Cameron.”

“That’s a pretty weird name. Cam Cameron.”

“Stop teasing, Dad. It’s Cam, short for Cameron.”

“Oh. Okay. Nice guy?”

“I think so. This really weird thing happened, tonight. Like, he wanted to protect me.”

The side of my face throbbed. Did I really want to ask about this? It would seem strange for me not to. “What happened?” I sounded very concerned, and realized, very shortly, I was going to have to explain the bruise on the side of my face.

“You know when I called earlier, and thought I was being followed by somebody, and then the car turned down another street?”

“Sure.”

“So Cam and I, we went into this McDonald’s, and he sees the car go by the window, and he like freaks out, goes out after the guy.”

“You’re kidding. You sure it was the same car?”

“I didn’t even see it go by, but Cam, he’s positive, he knows cars way better than I do, I can’t tell one from another, and he goes out there and starts screaming at this guy, and hauls off and punches him right in the head.”

“Did you get a look at the guy?” I asked Angie. Not that it was going to matter for very much longer.