By the time I left the office that evening, the city was drowning in rain.
My Maybach had barely cleared the underground garage when the driver slammed on the brakes.
"Ms. Solis, someone just ran in front of the car."
I opened my eyes and looked through the windshield. The wipers swept aside enough rain for me to make out a dark figure standing in the headlights, swaying as if he could barely remain upright. He threw himself onto the rear passenger window, pressing his face against the glass.
It was Zachary.
He had no umbrella. Rain had soaked him to the skin, leaving him less like the man he used to be and more like a half-drowned stray.
One hand clawed desperately at the window seal, while his other arm was wrapped tightly around his chest, protecting something from the rain.
"Wou
