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But Flint ignored him, shortening his long stride to Zach’s halting one as they crossed the hallway. His competent gentleness caught Zach off guard, made him feel—well, nothing useful or logical. Just that it would be nice to have someone in his life again he could occasionally rely on. Just a little.

“Besides,” Flint was saying, “It’s not like you misplaced a file. Someone tried to kill you.”

Someone tried to kill you.

Yes. That.

The thing he had been trying not to focus on. The thing the police had not seemed to take seriously.

He couldn’t seem to come up with an answer, and Flint said, “You filed a report with the police?”

No. What a great idea!

But Zach didn’t say that. He had no energy for their usual sparring. Instead, he nodded wearily, accepting Flint’s help as he lowered himself to the sofa, resettling his knee on the stack of cushions.

“Okay. I’ll follow up on that. Did you get a look at your attacker?”

“Not really. I lost my glasses, so everything was kind of a blur.”

“Well, that explains the tape.” Flint lightly tapped the taped bridge of Zach’s glasses.

It was light and affectionate and completely out of character. Or maybe it wasn’t out of character. Not for the first time, Zach wondered if most of everything he’d ever thought about Flint had been not just wrong, completely unfair.

Flint, meanwhile, dragged the footstool over and seated himself, so that he and Zach were eye level.

Zach self-consciously touched his glasses. “These are an old pair. I didn’t want to…” He didn’t finish it becauseI didn’t want to go back in therewas going to sound like he’d been afraid. Mostly, he hadn’t wanted to try crawling around with a wrecked knee to find his glasses. But okay, yes, also he’d been freaked out at the idea of staying in the garage longer than it took to find Mr. B. cowering behind a stack of old paint cans.

“I’ll have a look,” Flint said briskly, and Zach couldn’t help thinking that at times like these, Flint’s cool, take-charge attitude was particularly comforting. “Were you able to get an idea of size or…”

“Or?”

Flint said neutrally, “Sex.”

Zach said slowly, “It’s interesting you bring that up because they were wearing a shiny black raincoat and had long, blond hair.”

Flint’s gaze sharpened. “So, you think itwasa woman? Zora?”

“I… No. I actually don’t. I mean, I’m not sure because it was already dark and then I lost my glasses, so I couldn’t see much. But I couldfeel— And I know that sounds crazy.”

“No. It doesn’t. You got a sense of their size from having a physical altercation.”

“Yes. Right.” It was a relief Flint understood so easily what he meant. “They were tall, at least my height, and thin, but strong. There was a lot of force in the way they swung that bat.”

“You look like you’ve been through the wars, that’s for sure.” Once again Flint astonished Zach by gently brushing the bruise on his forehead. It was just a graze of fingertips, but Zach felt Flint’s touch in the very pores of his skin.

He grimaced. That was when they head-butted me. Which, come to think of it, is why I was pretty sure they were male. That felt…male.”

“I’ve known some pretty tough gals in my time, but I know what you mean. I realize you couldn’t make out features, but did they say anything? Make any noise at all? Could you tell much from touch or sound or smell?”

Zach closed his eyes, trying to remember. “Other than when he slammed his head into mine…”

“Was he wearing aftershave?”

Zach frowned, shook his head. “I don’t think so. I could smell the rubber of his raincoat. The hair felt fake, now that I think about it. Like a cheap wig. That’s about it. The garage already smells like car and old furniture.”

“Right.”

Zach opened his eyes. “The thing of it is, that blond wig—if it was a wig—that seems like it was meant to implicate Zora.”