My adrenaline is out the gate. Flustered, I click on my tactical light then point it down so I don’t blind her. Just as quickly I turn off the bloody thing, feeling foolish, then angry.

“Dammit, Lucy!” My heart is flying, my thoughts scattered like a flock of crazed birds. “Don’t sneak up on me like that.” My pulse pounds. “Jesus. It’s a good thing I don’t have a gun.”

“I don’t know if it’s a good thing. Especially now.”

“I could have shot you. I’m not joking.”

“There’s nothing to joke about, and I wasn’t sneaking.” She’s scanning all around us as if we’re not alone. “I just this second pulled up and saw you walking out. I was coming to find you.”

“Why?” I take a deep slow breath, and the hot air seems to barely fill my lungs.

“I’m glad you’re okay.” She looks at me, then back at the street, and up and around as if we’re about to be attacked.

“What do you mean especially now? What’s going on?” Something is, and she’s in high gear. “Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

“You’ve been leaving me messages,” she says, and I detect the brittleness in her voice, the flinty aggression. “So here I am. Let’s go inside.”

I recognize her mood and probably know what it means. “I didn’t demand we talk in person. I have a simple question, and a phone call would have been fine. I was going to ask you to search a name for me—”

“It’s too hot out here,” she cuts me off, not seeming to listen.

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t like what’s going on.” Her staring eyes are deep-set shadows, her mouth grim.

“Someone’s dead, and there’s nothing to like about that or a lot of things at the moment.” But I know that’s not what she means.

“I don’t like it,” she repeats, and her attention is everywhere again. “I’ve been trying to tell you. There are things you don’t know, and it’s fucked up.” Her low voice is fierce in the dark, and I get a feeling deep down, a mixture of emotions that I can’t easily describe.

Disappointment. Frustration. The numbness of homicidal rage turned stony and cold like something ancient that’s petrified. I’ve become increasingly desensitized, especially in recent years, and it’s true about crying wolf. Lucy may not do it audibly but I know when a certain subject is constantly on her mind.