The gray car rolled to the curb beside a brick wall scuffed by years of stagehand carts. “This is it," Dina said, easing to a stop. “Side gate?"
“Through that alley," Sara said. “Then the loading door."
Dina idled. “Any sign of him?"
Sara looked behind. Empty street, sodium lights, the faint hiss of the river. “No."
Sara unbuckled. “Thank you. Both of you."
Terrence leaned forward. “You'll be safer inside," he said. “Do you want us to wait?"
She shook her head. “You've done enough."
“Almost," Terrence said, sliding a card. “Call if you need help."
Dina tapped the wheel. “And next time you need to jump in a stranger's car, pick one with better snacks."
Sara smiled back, the first real one in hours. “I'll bring snacks to repay."
“Chocolate," Dina said. “Not the fancy kind. The gas-
