She said, “We’re losing daylight, Aunt Brigid. And I can work while you’re driving.” When I recognized the Quinn stubbornness on her face I didn’t waste time arguing with her. As I drove, keeping my eyes on the road, skirting ass-draggers when I could, trying to do something more useful than honk, I was aware of her working. She took a black garbage bag out of her backpack, left it folded in half, and spread it over the passenger seat with part of the plastic angled against the back of the seat. That done, she got another, this one a gallon-sized storage bag.

“Where’s the manuscript?” she asked.

I reached behind my seat to point out my tote, then put both hands on the wheel again to avoid a crash.

“Jesus, Aunt Brigid, you’re going to get us stopped.”

“Let them try.”

“Oh cool, so you show up with three black-and-whites, lights and sirens, following you. That will send a good message. He’s not going to do anything until you get there.”

I slowed down some at her logic. She opened my tote and in my rearview mirror I could see her almost fondling the document. Then, by God, she started to read it.

“Gemma-Kate,” I yelled.

“We still have a good thirty minutes until we’re at the house,” she said.

“You can read it later,” I said, not commenting that maybe it was time to feel a little something, concern for Carlo, perhaps. A little something.

Gemma-Kate reluctantly folded the document sideways into a tube that would fit inside the zip-lock bag. She handled it like a museum curator. Then she sealed the tab at the top of the bag.

At this point I swung the car on a caution light around the corner of First and Skyline. Not being warned, Gemma-Kate fell against the door of the car.

“You’re going to have to stop the car,” she said. “I can’t do this while you’re driving like a madwoman.”

“I can’t stop,” I said.

“I repeat, that guy isn’t going to make a move unless you take longer than usual to get from the airport.”

“I stopped to pick you up,” I said. “I told him I’d be there in about an hour. I’m afraid if it’s much more than that he’ll get nervous. It will be bad if he’s nervous.”

“You’ve more than made up for the time it will take to stop by doing fifty in a thirty-five zone,” she said.

“How long will it take?”

“Less than five minutes if nothing goes wrong.”

I pulled into the first parking lot I came to, Coco’s restaurant at the corner of Oracle and Ina.

“The container thing is in my tote, too,” I said.

Gemma-Kate dug around and pulled out the empty nasal spray. She looked somewhat concerned.