“I told you I handle problems,” his voice slid through the speaker.

“The police think you’re a creep.

The school fired you.

You’ll never find them.” “The state already has the report, Dorsey,” I said, and my own steadiness surprised me.

“Running doesn’t close a case.

It opens three more.” He said something ugly and hung up, and a moment later his tires barked and he was gone — because down the avenue, sirens were rising, and they were not for me.