Getting a taxi was damn near impossible. The streets were full of cars and slush and cold snow that whipped and blinded and stung. The vehicles moved like molasses, clogging the lanes, their headlights bright, windshield wipers flapping. Anthony in front of the hotel and listened in frustration as various bellmen and the main taxi hailer argued and fought with the few taxis that made their way around the hazards of stopped cars.
A nightmare.
"Anthony."
He turned around and found Annalise behind him, shivering. She pulled out a pack of cigarettes, tried three times to extract one with terribly shaking fingers, then inhaled a quivering sob and simply closed her eyes. Anthony took the pack from her, shook out a cigarette, and handed it to her.
"Thank you," she whispered. She withdrew a go
