We walk through a few smaller buildings and side paths, taking what feels like a needlessly circuitous route. At every turn she motions for me to stay behind her while making sure no one’s lurking around the next corner who could identify me. Finally, Natalie produces a key she likely snagged from the main office and inserts it into the lock of a walk-in gate on the perimeter of the facility.
“Can I bum a ride off you, Detective?” I ask. “It’s too far for me to walk home. I don’t even have my cell phone to call an Uber.”
“Don’t worry,” she replies. “I wouldn’t leave you hanging, as the cool kids say.”
I rub my eyes at the unexpected sight that greets me outside the gate. Parked ten feet away is a familiar silver Nissan. I get about two feet before a red-haired blur slams into me, crushi
