“In Cookie's defense, it was raining wildcats and rabid dogs.”

“Cookie had taken her daughter amber to school then walked the thirty-something feet to work earlier. Our business was on the second floor of Calamity's, my dad's bar, which sat right in front of our apartment building. The short commute was nice and rarely invloved rabid raccoons.”

“Oh, I forgot to tell you," Cookie said. "Amber wants your dad to get a teriyaki machine so she can sing for all the lonely barflies." "I'm a good singer, mom." Only a twelve-year-old could make the word mom sound blasphemous. I leaned into Cookie, "Does she know its not called--?" "No," she whispered. "Are you gonna tell her?" "No. It's much funnier this way.”

“My prodding me didn't elicit a reaction. His unseeing eyes stared straight through me. Which was odd. He'd seemed so sane huddled in Cookie's trunk.”

“Where you just possessed?" Cookie asked after a long moment, awe softening her voice. "'Cause let me tell you, sweetheart, if that was possession, I'm selling my soul.”

“Have you slept yet?''Sure. I took a power nap on the way over.''Didn't you drive there?''Yeah. Other drviers kept waking me up. Car horns should be illegal.'- Charley & Cookie”

“Make it quick," I said when I picked up. "Okay. Two men from the FBI are here." Cookie said. Quickly. Crap. "Men in black are at the office?""Well, yes, but they're actually in more of a navy."Crapola. I so don't have time for men. In any color. "Okay, two questions. Do they look mad, and are they hot?"After a long, long, pause, Cookie said, "One, not really. Two, no comment at this time. And three, you're on speakerphone."After another long, long pause, I said, "Okie dokie then. Be there in a jiff.”