Daniel steered around a slow-moving sedan.

“An eight-year-old doesn’t call about a man in the hall unless she’s already seen him twice.”

“Or unless somebody’s told her what happens if she does.”

Claire pushed the red dispatch alert button.

On her screen, the little icon for unit twelve swung around and started to move.

María López cut the headlights two houses down and let the cruiser roll to the curb under its own weight.

The street smelled of mown grass and cold leaves, and the maples had lost every leaf.