Their breath barely had a chance to return to normal when headlights flooded the front windows and the sound of an engine idling outside made her lift her head. What the fuck? Oh, no. Terrible looked at her, the same thought reflected in his eyes. But he was faster, leaping off the beanbag and peering out the window. “Cab in the drive.” “What? They—Shit! Shit, shit! They weren’t home, they’re not here asleep, they were out. Fuck, we need to get out of here.” “Ain’t got time. Them outta the car, dig.” She tried to remember the layout of the house as she snatched up her stuff from the floor. “Down the hall there’s a closet. Come on.” This was one of the stupidest situations she’d ever been in on a case. Fuck! Thankfully it appeared the Solomons didn’t use the closet often; an ironing board, a few boxes, and what looked like an exercise machine of some kind, covered in dust, huddled against the walls. Enough room for both of them to get their jeans back on. “Hopefully they’ll go to bed soon,”
