“Don’t let him step into your space.”

“He whispers when he gets mad,” I said.

“Then keep three feet back,” Sarah said.

She undid the deadbolt on her front door and held the screen door open with her boot.

“Get in the car,” Sarah ordered.

The digital clock on the Buick’s dashboard blinked to one o’clock exactly as I turned the key in the ignition.

I sat in the passenger seat while Sarah let the engine idle at the curb three blocks from the highway ramp.

I dialed David’s cell from memory.