“She likes Stouffer’s,” Hai said. “Make sure you get the Salisbury steak from Stouffer’s.” He stood open-mouthed as the van sped off, the security car following behind, its patrol lights still blazing. “With the brownie in the corner,” he said to himself, mist swirling around him. “With rainbow sprinkles.” Gene Pitney’s voice, still playing on the record inside, was flowing through a cracked window as the car lights faded.
