Seven steps up a flight of stairs shouldn’t look like Mt. Everest, except they did. Brian stood at the bottom of the steps that led up to the narrow back porch of Tristan’s brownstone. It was near dawn, and the whole set of events from the night seemed like a bizarre nightmare. Tristan had apparently called in several favors from colleagues to retrieve both cars from the Llewellyn Street area. Tristan’s car had been delivered to the hospital parking lot and Brian’s dropped off at the precinct for later pick up. Tristan had some spare clothes in the trunk, and he’d given Brian a shirt to put on before they left the hospital.
“Um, are you going to be able to walk up the stairs? Damn, maybe I should have taken you to your apartment,” Tristan said.
“Here’s fine. There’s even more stairs at m
