He said it as a fact.

He had not called a dispatcher in front of me to ask.

His hand closed around my arm, firmer than usual.

I looked toward Clara, but she had turned away.

He led me down the back steps into the cold.

The funeral van idled beneath the floodlight.

Its dark rear windows reflected the house.

Arthur remained at the wheel while David opened the rear passenger access and helped me up to the middle bench.