“Understood, console four.”

Two blocks east on Elm Street, the dash screen in unit twelve lit up and redrew itself.

Daniel Harris had his arm resting along the door and his eyes on the road.

María turned the radio dial and read the address over twice.

“Maplewood.

That’s off Wabash.”

“Ninety seconds if I cut through the alley.”

“Cut through the alley.” She touched the radio clip on her shoulder.