Eric’s voice. Robin had been having a dream, a bad one. She blinked the sleep out of her eyes and took in the waiting room, most every seat empty now, save for one of the college student’s friends—a big bearded redhead, stretched out and snoring on a row of seats across the room.

Eric said, “You were whimpering. Were you having a bad dream?”

“I don’t remember.” Shards of it stuck in her mind: A rental car backfiring. Her mother screaming. That cop’s voice: How about your mother. Has she mentioned enemies?

Her own: We’re not going to make it into a listicle or a meme?

Robin said, “It might be my fault.”

“What are you talking about?”

“The break-in. My parents . . .”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“Listen to me. I wrote a column yesterday. Did you read it?”

“I didn’t have a chance.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Robin said. “It got a ton of hate. More than usual. I had to turn all my notifications off, and even then, I . . . I got a text.” She dug her phone out of her pocket, handed it to him. “Look at the latest text, Eric.”

He stared at the screen. “That’s terrible.”

“How did they find out my cell-phone number?”

“Robin, it’s a huge leap to think some troll would be able to track down your parents.”

“The nurse at the front desk,” she said. “She reads me. She said she knew I was from around here.”

“Robin . . .”

“I’m serious. If an ER nurse I’ve never seen before knows where I live, then who’s to say some psychopath doesn’t know it too? Who’s to say that psychopath didn’t track down my parents and break into their house?”

“Over a film column?”

“Yes, Eric. Over a fucking film column.”

“Robin,” he said slowly. “You’ve got to get a grip.”

Her jaw clenched up. “The cops asked if my parents had any enemies,” she said. “They told me to think about it hard, Eric. They didn’t tell me to get a grip.”

He stared at her. “They asked you that?”

“Yes . . .” She stared back. His face was pale, eyes wide. “Are you okay?” she asked him.

“It’s nothing.”

“Stop it,” she said. “You aren’t allowed to tell me, ‘Nothing.’ Not tonight. You have to let me know what’s on your mind.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s pissed people off.”

“What do you mean?”

Eric started to answer. At least she thought he started to answer, but she’d never be sure of that, riveted as she was by the doctor pushing through the ER doors, asking, “Are you Robin Diamond?”

“Yes.” She thought about whether she should stand up to greet him, as though there were some ceremony to this, the Receiving of News. In a type of compromise, Robin half stood up, then fell back to sitting again. “That’s me.”