“He knows,” I whispered, my voice trembling. “He knows I’m with you.”

“He knows nothing,” Hale said, swinging the wheel sharply.

The tires screeched against the wet asphalt as we made a hard turn.

We pulled into a narrow, paved alley behind a row of shuttered storefronts.

The rain was coming down harder now, washing over the windshield in heavy sheets.

A single blue light bulb burned over a metal door at the back of a brick building.

Hale killed the headlights, plunging us into the shadows.

“Help me get him inside,” Hale ordered, shifting the car into park.

I slid the vibrating phone into my coat pocket without thinking.

I got out into the freezing rain, the drops stinging my face.

The air smelled of wet garbage, car exhaust, and damp brick.

Together, Hale and I supported Vincent’s weight as he dragged his feet across the wet pavement.

He was burning hot, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps against my neck.

Hale unlocked the heavy steel door, and we slipped into the warmth of the clinic.

It smelled of rubbing alcohol and old floor wax.