Susan nodded and pulled away from the curb, turning the radio up as she did. Sam Cooke’s husky croon came over the speakers. As she drove away she watched in the rearview mirror as Henry climbed into Claire’s Fiesta and the taillights disappeared into the night.

Archie had warned Henry about Sanchez, right?

Susan bobbed her head along to the Sam Cooke song.

Something glinted on the dashboard as she passed a streetlight. Susan swiped her finger along the spot and then brought it close to her face and peered at it. Her finger was dark with dust —she really had to buy some Armor All—and in the middle of the dirt was a single speck of gold glitter. That was the thing with glitter; it got everywhere. But she still couldn’t figure out where this bit had come from. She rubbed the dust and the glitter off on her pants and sucked in her breath as she glanced up.

Susan slammed on her brakes and the car jolted to a stop, jerking Susan against her seat belt. She heard a mountain of crap from her backseat slide onto the floor behind her.

Princess Leia was pulling a Star Wars stormtrooper across Water Avenue. Susan had nearly hit them, but neither was acknowledging that fact. The stormtrooper was drunk. He was carrying a can of beer. Princess Leia had a cigarette in one hand. It was Halloween Eve, Susan reminded herself. They were probably on their way to a party. Her pounding heart was slowing now. The businesses along that stretch—industrial buildings housing microbrew tasting rooms and restaurants and kayak shops—were closed, and the streetlights were placed far apart and left much of the street darkened. But there could be a party in one of the warehouses.

Princess Leia and the stormtrooper continued stumbling up a side street and Susan continued along Water Avenue, white-knuckling the wheel, keeping her eye out for costumed revelers who might decide to dart in front of traffic.

Susan could just make out the giant red neon OMSI sign up ahead, and the sight of it made her relax a bit. The Oregon Museum of Science and Industry was closed, but its brick façade was a reassuring landmark. The road home was just past it.

She had never really noticed before how empty this route was at night. A sea of empty museum parking lots stretched alongside the street. You could never find parking at OMSI when you needed it. Now Susan wished the parking lots weren’t so big. Sam Cooke was still singing. It was a long song.

Frankie reached down in her pocketbook

and up with a long forty-four

she shot once, twice, three times and

Johnny fell to the hard wood floor

Aw, he was a man alright

but Frankie shot him because

he was doing her wrong.

Something else slid off the backseat onto the floor.