Naomi’s nostrils flared delicately. She brought my coffee to her mouth, drank it down in a few determined gulps, then tossed the empty cup into the waste basket by the desk. “Thank you for your help. If you see a blue Volvo with a Nice Matters bumper sticker, please let me know.” Christ. “Don’t suppose you’ve got one of those apps on your phone that’ll tell you where your car is, do ya?” Grave asked. She reached for her pocket, then stopped and squeezed her eyes shut for a beat. “I did.” “But you don’t no more?” “I don’t have a phone. Mine, uh, broke last night.”
