I put my hand in my pocket and found the pharmacy receipt with the two times written on it, and under those, nothing yet.

“There’s one more thing,” Marisol said.

“I put in for the crash report with the precinct records unit on Tuesday.

It hasn’t come back yet.

It comes by fax to the lobby downstairs, and that office closes at seven.”

I walked back down.

The tray was still on the corner table where we had left it, and my tea sat on it, gone cold, with a skin across the top.

I turned the cup a quarter turn, the way Charles had, and left it sitting there.