Angie stirred her yogurt, getting the fruit down on the bottom mixed into the rest of it, and studied me for a moment. “Dad,” she said.

“Yes, honey?”

“Are you, like, drifting into another one of your spells again?”

“Excuse me?”

“You know, when you start getting hyper-concerned about everything? Because, like, you’re totally impossible when you’re like that. I mean, I can understand you getting freaked out about Lawrence and all, but everything’s fine here at home.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said. “Never mind, we won’t talk about it, subject closed, conversation over.” I looked back down at my paper. “We just want you to find a career that will make you happy.”

“Dad!”

“Okay, never mind. Forget it.” I decided to move to another subject. “How’s this thing with Trevor? He still bothering you?”

Angie sighed. “He called me, late last night.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He says, we’re meant to be together. That forces that might try to keep us apart are, what did he say, acting in vain.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Weird, huh? He’s so fucking intense. Says I remind him of that chick, the one in the Matrix movie, jumps around in slow motion kicking the crap out of guys. She is kind of pretty.”

“You know, there are things we can do. We could get, I don’t know, a restraining order or something, or-”

“Dad.”

“We’ve got legal experts at the paper, I could ask one of them-”

“Dad.”

“They could probably give us a name. In fact, I met this police detective last night, he might even-”

“Dad!”

“Huh?”

“Dad, stop it. Okay? Trevor’s a pain, but I’ll deal with it. It’s not like he’s psycho or something.”

I wanted to tell her. That Trevor had been following her the night before, first to the coffee shop where she met the young man, then to the mall, then part of the way out to Oakwood. And I was working up to it, thinking, okay, she could get as mad as she wanted, but it was important that she-

“Jeez, Dad, maybe you should start snooping on him, like you did with-”

The Pool Boy.

I waved my hands in the air. “Okay, okay, okay, never mind. I’m sorry.”

We didn’t speak for a couple of minutes. She ate her toast across from me. I listened to every chew.

“There is something funny, though,” she said softly. “Like, funny weird, not funny ha-ha.”

“What?”

“There were times last night, when I was driving around, when I had this feeling, I don’t know. This is totally weird. Like I was being watched.”

“Really.”

“And I looked around, figuring it might be Trevor? You know? Because he’s been so weird lately? But I didn’t see him.”

“Huh.”

“Yeah. I’m probably just freaking out. This is what you’ve done to me. This is the kind of person you’re turning me into.”

Angie rinsed her dish and put it in the dishwasher, then went into the front hall. She called to me, still sitting in the kitchen, “Can I have the new car today?”

“I’ve got to get it looked at today. Half the time, it doesn’t want to start.”

“Great.”

And then I heard the muffled sound of a cell phone, and I could hear her rustling through her bag. “Hello?”

Then: “Stop fucking phoning me, okay?”

I took the shopping bags out of the Virtue and put them up in my bedroom, then locked up the house and got into the car. It started, but I wanted to be sure the problem wasn’t going to recur, so on the way into the office I stopped at Otto’s Auto Repair, and found Otto under a Mustang that was up on the hoist. Otto had looked after our cars, off and on, for the last fifteen years.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“I got myself a new car,” I explained, “and I’ve been having a little trouble with it.”

“Let’s have a look,” he said, and walked out the bay doors with me as I led him over to the Virtue.

“Whoa,” he said. “This is one of those hybrid cars.”

“That’s right.”

“Where’s the extension cord?” And Otto started laughing.

“That’s a good one, Otto,” I said.

“You really should have talked to me before you went out and bought one of these. I mean, they’re good on gas and all, but they’re a bit hinky in the electrical department. Sometimes they don’t want to start.”

“Yeah, so I’ve discovered.”

Otto nodded, asked me to pull the lever inside that would pop the hood.

“Jesus,” he said. “There’s nothing here but a huge plastic cover. I got to get that off before I can see anything. Can you leave it with me? It might have something to do with the battery cells. It’s got a shitload of them. Loose wire, maybe. You could pick it up later in the afternoon.”

I grabbed a streetcar the rest of the way to work, and Nancy, the assignment editor who was filling in for Sarah while she was at her retreat, found me at my desk about five seconds after I’d sat down. She’d read Dan’s turnover note and wanted to be brought up to speed. I gave her the short version of events, enough details that she could answer questions from any editors further up the food chain, including Magnuson, who could be assured, I said, that I was not involved in any shootouts.

“Shootouts?”

“You can just tell him, if he asks.”

“Write your story,” she said. “Everything you’ve got. And figure out what likely follows you have.”

“If there are any follow-ups,” said Dick Colby, who had sneaked up behind Nancy, “they’re mine. This is my beat, you know.”

“I’m sorry, Dick,” I said. “Next time I find a guy who’s dying, I’ll phone you so you can come down and call the ambulance.”

Nancy took a step back from Colby, trying to get some air.

“All I’m saying is,” Colby said, “everyone should respect each other’s territory. You don’t see me writing science fiction stories.”

“You could do one,” I said, “about a planet where no one bathes.”

“Oh fuck,” Nancy said under her breath.

“What did you say?” Colby asked me.

“Look,” said Nancy, who hated confrontation and wanted to defuse uncomfortable situations as quickly as possible. “Dick, we can talk about this later, okay?”

Cheese Dick wandered off, grumbling.

“I can’t believe you said that,” Nancy said.

“I can’t believe we’re still breathing,” I said.

My desk phone rang. I gave Nancy my “I have to get this” smile, and put the receiver to my ear.

“Walker,” I said.

“Zack. It’s Trixie.”

My stomach flipped.

“Hey,” I said. “I was, uh, I was actually thinking of calling you today.”

“I heard, on the news, about Lawrence. Isn’t this the guy you told me about on the phone?”

By now, Lawrence’s name had been officially released by the police, and the story was on the radio. “Yeah,” I said.

“Sounds terrible. How is he?”

“Not good.”

“Listen, you sound kind of preoccupied, so I can let you go. But what were you going to call me about?”

Think. The truth? Or something less than the truth?

“I don’t know,” I said. “I was just going to suggest getting a coffee sometime, maybe. How’d it go with that client? Your Girl Scout cookie fan?”

Trixie chuckled. “Oh yeah. Later, after he’d left and I was getting changed, I found crumbs in my stockings.”

I thought about that for a moment, decided it wasn’t worth trying to figure out the logistics.

“I think Paul got drunk last night.” As soon as I’d said it, I wondered why I’d done so. I guess I needed to talk about it with someone, and I hadn’t broached it with Sarah yet. “These teenage years, they’re enough to kill you as a parent.”

“I don’t envy you. Having kids, I don’t think it’s something I’d ever have been any good at.” There was an inexplicable sadness in Trixie’s voice. But then she brightened. “If only drinking had been the only thing I’d been into when I was sixteen.”

“And Angie,” I said, letting my daughter’s name hang out there for a minute, “she’s growing up so fast, it’s hard to keep up.”