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Nancy’s little car feels way too snug and too warm. My knees brush the bottom of the dashboard and my head sits too close to the roof. The phone call with Nancy’s sister and the thug leaves me feeling even more wrung out.
At least Nancy’s trying to breathe like I told her. She’s over-inflating her stomach with each inhale and making a little hissing noise as she exhales, but that’s okay if it keeps her calm.
I follow her example, but more quietly.
After another breath Nancy says, “I’m in trouble, aren’t I?”
I nod. “Maybe not as much as you think.”
She gives a bitter laugh. “They’ll come back.”
“I don’t think they will.” I try to make my smile reassuring. “Crooks don’t work any harder than they have to. The easy thing for them to do would be to wait for you to come home and make s
