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My heart wants to plunge straight out of my body and down into the ground like a miniature black hole, right there in the train switchyard parking lot.
Will raises a hand to the driver and mouths thanks over the monstrous subwoofer before slamming the door and marching across the cinder parking lot towards our SUV looking like someone just shot his dog.
Or, maybe, blown up his truck.
I need to be calm. Cool. In control.
Anything that happens is my responsibility.
Poor Little Hurt Billie needs to go back in her bedroom and let grown-up, mercilessly logical Beaks handle things.
Deke says “Here.” Before I can look he thrusts my earpiece and throat mic at me. He must have gotten them out of my rolley bag. I quickly stuff the earpiece in and wrap the mic around my throat, almost stran
