Charlie raised a hand and cut him off. “Got it. So when you heard about the asteroid . . .”

“About the sky falling.”

“. . . what exactly did you hear?”

The look he shot her had actual substance. “The sky is falling.”

“Those exact words?”

“How the hell should I know. Too many thoughts. Needle in a haystack. Haystack of fucking needles.” He took another drink.

“Were there other thoughts around it?”

“Do you ever listen, girl? Too. Many. Thoughts.”

“I need you to remember them.” Given a little more to work with, Charlie was certain she could tell if he’d overhead Auntie Catherine.

“I need to stop hearing shit. We don’t always get what we need, do we?”

There was that slippery slope again, but Charlie didn’t see as she had much choice right now. “Dan, you have to remember.”

“You have black eyes. Not punched black, that’s purple. Really black. Inside.”

“I know.” The breeze had stilled, but leaves on the surrounding trees continued to whisper. “Remember the thoughts you heard around the same time you heard about the sky falling.”

“. . . can’t tell people the sky is falling, millions will die in the panic. . . . damn dog on the bed again. . . . said it was cancer. . . . don’t find a solution in six months, millions will die in the panic anyway. . . . You lying, cheating, bastard! . . . looks more like an Argentinian than a Brazilian. . . . take natural disasters for a thousand, Alex.”

Millions will die in the panic was so specific a phrase, the two thoughts had to be connected. “That’s a wrap, Dan. Thank you.”

Dan shrugged, tipped his head back, and poured the liquid remaining in the bottle down his throat.

Too bad. She could use a drink.

He hadn’t overheard Auntie Catherine. Someone else knew. And that someone thought they had six months to find a solution or millions would die in the panic. Overwrought much? Would the asteroid be visible to NASA in six months? Would they have to publish the news because they were government funded? Who’d already seen it and how? Had the government seen it and was that why they were pulling Dan in, before people started listening to him?

Too many questions. Not enough answers.

“Damn it, Jim, I’m a musician not an astrophysicist.”

“Dan.”

“What?”

“Dan, my name is Dan.” He sighed and slumped forward, elbows on his thighs. “First time in a shitload of time I tried to do something about what I heard. All anyone did was laugh. Started calling me Doomsday Dan. Assholes.”

“I’m not laughing.”

He turned his head and stared at her through narrowed eyes. “No, you’re not.”

“I have an auntie who sees the future. She saw the same piece of the sky falling.”

Dan snorted. It was slightly less damp than his snort on camera. “And I’m the crazy one.”