And there were more than before. Maybe I’d stay the night with Cookie, too.

No, I needed to stop running and try to get some information from these women. Surely one of them out of the baker’s dozen could clue me in to what was going on. I was out of the loop even in my own abode.

“I s-see that. M-maybe I’ll just go out for a while.”

“Hey, could you talk to them?” I asked. “Figure out what’s going on?”

But his gaze had landed on Mr. Wong. His brows snapped together a microsecond before recognition sank in.

“Um, n-no, I don’t th-think I c-can.”

I couldn’t help but notice his stutter had gotten worse.

“Do you know him?” I asked, surprised.

“W-what? Him? N-no. I-I have n-no idea who th-that is.”

I took hold of his arm. “Duff, who is he?”

“I – I have to g-go.”

Was he scared? Surprised?

“Duff, wait.” I dropped my bag and bent to get it.

But I’d let go. He vanished. To my chagrin.

I stepped into my apartment, closed the door behind me, and gave Mr. Wong the once-over. “Okay, mister, who are you really?”

He didn’t move. He never moved. But how would Duff know him? Mr. Wong didn’t get out much.

I thought about paying my comely neighbor a visit. Reyes, not Cookie. Though Cookie was comely, too, in her own special way. But knowing about Kim and what I had to do, I wasn’t sure what to say to him. And he was going to die soon? I would figure out a way to break the rules, whatever they were, when the time came, but until then, having Reyes so near was wonderful.

It seemed I would be sharing a bed with a beautiful Asian woman. She sat on the far corner facing the wall. Her feet on the ground. Her palms in her lap. Her gaze distant. It seemed wrong to try to get some sleep with all these women mulling about, but I just didn’t know what to do for them. I got on my knees and checked under the bed. The pixie was still under there. Her huge blue eyes stared out at me, and I realized she was the only one who made eye contact. Who saw me.

Out of all the women, she was the youngest by far. It seemed odd to me that a serial killer would kill a child in the midst of older women. Maybe she was an accident. Or maybe he started killing them younger and younger as he went. There was just no telling.

“Hey, hon,” I said.

She scurried back, her movements haunting, her limbs working like a bug’s in the meager space.

“Sweet dreams.”

I finally lay down, my mind racing with the events of the day, and put my hand against the wall that separated my and Reyes’s apartments. Our bedrooms. His heat, scalding and soothing at the same time, leached into the wall. A comforting warmth penetrated my palm, worked its way up my arm, and spread through my entire body.

I fell asleep with only one thought on my mind: Reyes Farrow.

“I want you to know, I’m missing a Supernatural marathon,” Cookie said the next morning when she came over for coffee.

“It’s for the greater good, Cook. Four out of five experts agree: Gun safety trumps an eye candy fix.”

“Have they even seen the Winchester boys? Sammy and Dean’s existence proves there is a god and she is a woman.”

I laughed out loud. But she had a good point.

“It’s true,” she said, raising a saucy brow. “I read it on a poster.”

“Then it must be true. What are you doing in class today?”

“We’re going to the range this morning, then back to the classroom later. You were right. Noni’s great. And he has some great stories.”

I felt I should warn her. “You’ll hit some harder stuff this afternoon. Just think about his questions and answer honestly. Noni’s refused to sign off on only two students before because they were a bit too… eager. I think you’ll be fine.”

“Let’s get back to the harder stuff. What’s he going to ask?”

“He’s going to ask you to be honest with yourself. He’ll talk about things like regret. If you do ever have to pull your sidearm, if you ever have to kill someone, how do you think you’ll feel afterwards?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never thought about it. The odds have just been so against me actually hitting anything.”

“It’s pretty simple, really. If you fire your sidearm to protect someone you love, you won’t regret it. But if you fire it only to protect yourself, as crazy as this sounds, you’ll probably harbor a lot of guilt.”

“Why would I feel guilty protecting myself?”

“It’s something about our psyche or our genetic code. I don’t know, I think there’s a chromosome in our DNA that prevents us from using violence to protect ourselves if we have another choice. Sadly, as humans are wont to do, we are always second-guessing ourselves. As a result, we end up feeling bad about killing the guy who was going to murder us with an axe.” I shrugged. “You think we’d be okay with that.”

“Are you still being invaded?”

“Yes. How’d you guess?”

“It’s freezing in here.”

“Sorry. Dead people are so impolite.”

Amber popped her head in the door. “Can Quentin come over?”

“No!” we said simultaneously.

“Why? He doesn’t have to be back at school until tonight.”

Cookie did her mommy face. “No boys at the apartment when I’m not there, Amber.”