Outside, rain hammered the windshield hard enough to blur the city into streaks of silver and black. The heater hummed softly, filling the car with dry warmth that felt unreal against Emma’s soaked skin.
She sat curled into the corner of the backseat, David’s jacket wrapped tightly around her shoulders.
“That car was trying to kill me,” she repeated quietly, like saying it twice might make it less impossible.
“Yes.”
“Because of the report?”
David didn’t answer immediately.
That scared her more than if he had.
The sedan turned sharply onto Lower Wacker, disappearing beneath the city into concrete tunnels slick with reflected light.
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