The water dripped slowly onto my collar, soaking into the dark blue wool of my cardigan.

“He hit me, David.

Just once, across the cheek, because I asked Sloan to take her cigarette outside.”

The line stayed quiet for five long seconds.

I heard the faint click of his pen cap settling into place on his desk.

“Are you in physical danger right now?” he asked.

“No.

Mark and Sloan took the sports coupe and went out to a restaurant.”