Chris thought about it for a moment. She had a point. “So what makes you think this plan, if that’s what it is, is a bad one?”

Chris was conscious that he, a man of nearly sixty years, was in a genuine two-way discussion with a child, one in which views were exchanged and things learned, by him in this instance and not for the first time. When Chris had been growing up, kids were treated as kids. But Marielle had always talked to Abby as if she were an adult. Spencer had sometimes followed her line but it had been Marielle’s “thing.” Chris marveled at the results.

Abby gathered her things and headed for the front door. “All Dad’s plans are bad right now. Mom helped him get successful. Women do that a lot, but they can’t let men know.”

Chris called after her. “OK, so why didn’t you stop me?”

“I’m eleven.”

The door slammed.

Penny pulled up on Winchester and Conant early. Spencer got out and walked up to the Winchester Auto Specialists gates. He checked that the street was clear before climbing over. He was going to need his tools.

Out in the yard he set to work on the remaining cars. He loosened HT leads and manifold bolts, broke the distinctive rear wing on a Subaru WRX, smashed a few windows, replaced sport rims with small emergency spares, and threw the rims over the fence into the back alley. He mixed dirt with polish and smeared paintwork.

On Conant, a big man sat astride a powerful motorcycle, legitimately purchased this time. The Yo-Yo took out his phone, zoomed in, and filmed Spencer at work.

Officer Hess, only a scrawny twenty-two but already with three years in the DPD behind him, was having a hell of a time deciding which was the better view. He could look out the third-floor window across Midtown, where he should be out patrolling, sweating his ass off, busting scum, or he could watch Nurse Abraham’s tight, tight ass as she leaned over to check her patient’s vitals. She was pretty well racked up front too. Probably smelled great as well. So the guy in the bed was getting an even more amazing show than Hess. Pity he was in no condition to appreciate it. Or maybe he was appreciating it because the guy sure was breathing heavy. Oh, no, wait, he couldn’t breathe by himself. The ventilator was doing the breathing. Heat wave outside, miniature heat wave going on in room 478 of the trauma center for perps shot through the chest.