I can only assume that my face made a response that matched the horror-filled disbelief that filled my mind. My hesitation gave Hunter time to raise a placating forepaw and offer an explanation.

“We’re asking you to do what our deep-cover agents do. The injection that we gave you will help you to keep your identity stabilized. We can give you a rapid training in how to dip into Rawlins’ identity enough to fake being him; again, you’ll have your own identity to keep you grounded. We will provide physical protection, too. There will be operatives with you at all times, even if you don’t see them.”

“Might even be me.” Kayleigh, the young human female, grinned at me. “You probably won’t see me. I’m usually invisible.”

The two males across from me chuckled at what they thought was a joke. From everything that I’d seen so far, I wasn’t the slightest bit sure that it was.

“Just what,” I finally found my voice, “makes you can think I can pull this off?”

Dr. Dyre weighed in. “We’re not saying that you have no choice. This is not an ultimatum. If necessary, we can find a way to kidnap your body… That phrasing sounds crazy, even to us,” he chuckled softly. “We could, effectively, bring your body back to you, by whatever means necessary, and reunite you with yourself. We’re not heartless, and we know you’re frightened by all this.”

“What we’re hoping,” Hunter added, “is that you’ll help us to put an end to this rogue agent’s activities, not only so that he won’t be able to hijack others, but also so that we can stop him from making a huge cash-for-arms deal.” He grinned ruefully. “That’s what brought him to our attention in the first place. Our agency deals with the sort of counterterrorism crap that’s all too focused on in films and television.”

“And it’s not nearly so glamorous,” Kayleigh added, with an exaggerated sigh. “Run of the mill, usually. I hardly ever get to kill anyone.”

“Kayleigh,” the doctor admonished softly, “I think we’re making our guest a little too apprehensive about this.”

“Why? Isn’t he one—”

“…of the few victims of our dark ops,” Hunter finished, “and he’s got every reason to worry. It’s not an easy choice.” The sable looked at me carefully. “I know you’ve got questions. Ask away.”

“You said you could return me without doing this.”

“We can,” Dyre nodded. “We are hoping you’ll help us.”

I swallowed. “What would I have to do?”

“Be Rawlins for a little while.” Hunter held my eyes. “After a rapid training here, to help you with the disguise, we find a way to drop you back into the world at large, and then we wait to see who contacts you. When we get the information we need from them, we move to the next phase, which is to trap our rogue spy before he can accomplish his mission. When we trap him, we also get your body back, and we can reintegrate you. You would be free of him, Rawlins would be free of you, and the rogue will be returned to his own body, when he tells us where it is.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“One thing at a time, Nathaniel,” said Dyre. “We’ve yet to meet a problem without solution, what with one thing and another.”

“For now,” Hunter continued, “let’s focus on what’s next. What else do you want to know?”

“I get the feeling that there’s some rush about this. What’s that about?”

“We can answer that with a question. What is your job at Avalon Bank? Do you remember that now?”

Nodding slowly, I found the information waiting for me. “Yes. My degree in accounting and finance got me my job. Shana hired me… still can’t remember when, but she took me into her… what is it called, the division that handles international transactions. I’ve got a knack for foreign currencies, and I…”

My pause was less because of gaps in my memory as it was that I began to get the idea. If the spy was trying to get funds, launder them, whatever, my access and pass codes would be a good way to do it. He could get his fingers — my fingers — into a lot of financial pies.

“Friday night,” I remembered. “It’s Friday night. I was on my way home when this happened. The bank is open tomorrow, until noon, but I’m not due back until Monday morning, as usual.”

Hunter nodded. “That gives us about 60 hours, give or take. Sorry for the pressure, but now you see how we’ve connected the dots.” He paused again. “Any other questions?”

I swallowed, which is reflex for me usually, but this dog’s body felt way too weird. Even as I tried to process that idea, I found myself saying, “About 144 of them, but that would be gross.”

Dyre and Hunter laughed, although Kayleigh seemed momentarily confused before she got it. The human doctor said, “Your humor is returning, at least. That’s a good sign. From what little we know of Rawlins, he wouldn’t have come up with that one.”

Expelling a huge breath, I said, “I’m probably crazy. Are you sure you’ll be okay with my not doing this?”

“If, at any time, you want to back out, you can.” Hunter offered a forepaw for me to take. “You have my word. No judgment. We can get you prepped and ready, and you keep thinking about it. Only commit at the point when we put you back into Rawlins’ life.”

A moment’s pause, then I took his forepaw into mine. “Doesn’t mean I’m not still scared.”

“You’d be a fool not to be,” Dyre sympathized.

“Okay,” I breathed. “How do we begin?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

In a matter of minutes, I found myself seated in a particularly comfortable chair with a headrest on it. The dog’s body was happy with the change, and that helped me to relax a little more. Dyre moved behind me, apparently working on setting things up while explaining what would be happening.

“Nathaniel, there is no pain associated with any of this. I promise that I’m not preparing scalpels or dental drills back here. You have some idea how much progress has been made in medical science over the years. I’ll just say that we have a few techniques and tricks that never appeared at Radio Shack.” He chuckled. “You’re too young to get that reference, I imagine.”

“Rawlins isn’t,” I said, surprising myself. “I can see his memory of an electronics chain store. It had shops everywhere until maybe 2015.”

“They’re still around, mostly online.” The doctor had turned his head around toward me, judging by his voice. “Anyway, the joke is just that we’re one or two developmental generations ahead of what’s generally available. As Kayleigh said, sci-fi’s got nothing on us.”

I paused, then asked, “Is she really that bloodthirsty?”

“No, not really. She enjoys the shock value. Once you get to know her, you get used to her brand of humor.” He had turned back to his preparations. “That’s not to say that I’d want to get on her bad side. She can take care of herself.”

“Somehow, I don’t doubt it.” I took another breath. “Okay, Doc; what’s next?”

“An injection, but not pneumatic. The needle is very small gauge, and you might not even feel it. The location is strange.”

I sensed him moving closer to me, still behind me. He applied what felt like an alcohol swab behind the dog’s right ear. I caught myself thinking of this body as not mine, yet I was fully aware of it. I guess that drug was working after all. I felt something in the area of where Dyre had been sterilizing, but I’m not entirely sure what it felt like.

“That should do it,” he said. “Any pain?”

“No. I felt something, but nothing painful.”

“Good, good. Nathaniel, I want to introduce you to someone now. Miranda Odowu. Miranda, would you greet Nathaniel, when you’re ready?”

“Hello,” said a softly cultured voice, another slight accent that I couldn’t identify clearly, although I had an impression of something African, someone from maybe Botswana or Zimbabwe. In my work at the bank, I’d had telephone and VoIP calls with people who had a similar sound in their voices.

“Hello,” I replied. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Actually, I didn’t.”

“Where are you?”

The pause was short. “I take it that Dr. Dyre didn’t explain.”

“Explain what?”

“That was quicker than usual,” the doctor observed, still behind me. “Nathaniel, you can hear Miranda?”

“Of course. Clearly.”

He moved around in front of me, looked at me with a compassionate smile. “It took almost no time at all, this go-round. Perhaps I should have explained first. The injection consisted of a small amount of sterile solution with a nano-sized chip in it. Does that make sense?”

I felt myself grow cold. “Okay. Sci-fi again. I think ‘nano’ is far beyond ‘tiny,’ and you said ‘chip’ as if it’s like a computer chip. Close?”

“More than you know.” As he spoke, he put his hand on my shoulder. “Have you used a Bluetooth, or know what one is?”

“Both,” I said.

“You’ve got something like one implanted now.”

His grip on my shoulder tightened a little as he felt me tense up. “What does it do?”

“It can hear what you hear, and you can hear our control center talking to you through it. It is essentially an extension of your sense of hearing.”

“Can someone standing near me hear it?”

“No; it’s a neural implant. When Rawlins is returned to himself, we’ll neutralize it; we won’t interfere with him or listen in on him, once he’s back on his own. To answer another question, about Rawlins: He’ll wake up in a hospital, recovering from a fall. He was taken to hospital for the trauma. In a day or so, when he’s fully recovered, he’ll go back to being himself, having his missing few days explained as ‘retrograde amnesia,’ common in trauma patients. We’ll monitor from a distance for a few days, make sure he’s okay, then he’ll be his own dog again.”

“You’ve done this before,” I said.

“Once or twice,” said the disembodied voice, just before the doctor said, “A few times, yes.”

“I’ve just heard two of you.”

The human smiled. “Miranda, why don’t you take over for a moment?” He sat on a wheeled secretarial chair in front of me.

“Hello again, Nathaniel,” she said. “I’m sure this is unusual for you.”

“That’s a mild word, compared to a few I’m thinking. Can you hear those thoughts, too?”

“Absolutely not,” she informed me. “The chip works like a Bluetooth. I can hear whatever your ears pick up. Also, I can speak to you through the chip. You have to speak aloud for me to hear you.”

I managed to relax a little, and Dyre took his hand gently from my shoulder. “It’s one more thing for me to get used to.”

Her voice chuckled softly. “I’ll do my best not to abuse my privilege. By the way, the chip also works as a locator, like GPS. It’s another thing to keep you safe: We’ll know where you are, no matter what.”

“Okay.” I was about to speak, thought first. “Dr. Dyre, what’s next?”

Nodding, he said, “Miranda, did you teach him that already?”

“He means that you made sure that you were speaking to him rather than me,” she said to me. “It can be important to remember that I have no visual cues to follow.”

“It can be important,” Dyre added, unknowingly repeating her words. “You seem to have picked up on the subtlety quickly, Nathaniel. Well done. And please, call me Andrew. It’s a good Scots name, after all.”

“Andrew, then. What’s next?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Next” turned out to be what they called a “crash course” in being two people at once. Andrew and Hunter (the sable seemed to have no other name, or at least not one he cared to share) sat me in a room and tag-teamed questions about Trevor and Nathaniel, and I had to field them as quickly as possible. Some questions about myself were difficult to answer, although more memories about me were shaken loose. I wanted to focus more on those, but they yanked me back to Trevor before I could, seemingly to make sure I didn’t lose focus. Hunter asked questions about Nathaniel, and when his turn came around again, he would go back to things that had triggered memories; that helped me to integrate more of myself. Keeping my identity more stable, he explained later, would also help me to work with Trevor’s memories better.

The sessions were brief, interrupted by breaks for a surprisingly good meal as well as for water and a trip to the toilet. (When I remembered that she was listening, I apologized to Miranda for the sound of my splashing against the urinal; she explained, gently, that bodily functions were normal, universal, and not offensive. I hoped I never got an attack of flatulence.) They said that I had a knack for this, that I was learning quickly. I hoped that they weren’t trying to get me to sign up as an agent. Even so, I had to admit that I was pleased with my progress.

After a while, I got tired, and they were kind enough to notice. The question arose as to how and where I was to sleep. We all discussed it, and yes, it was all of us. I was surprised that they wanted my input on it; I wasn’t expert at this, after all.

“We’re concerned with your safety and well-being,” Hunter explained. Then, with a grin, he added, “You’re no good to anyone if you’re too tired to act.”

“Gee, t’anks,” I said, not really feeling it. “Do I go back to Rawlins’ apartment, or…?”

“Putting you back into Rawlins’ place may not be a good plan; after all, he’s on the run. We do have a room for you. It’s not the most comfortable place, but you’ll be safe here, and you can get some rest.”

Managing a chuckle, I said, “I can at least try. Even as tired as I feel, I’m not sure I can sleep anyway.”

“If I may,” Miranda said via the neural connection (how quickly I’d gotten used to the idea). I raised a forepaw, pointing to my ear; those in the room nodded. “There is a little trick I can use to help you. I can send a very quiet set of pulses through the comm; they mimic the brain’s resting rhythms, and it tricks you into slipping to sleep. It only works if you want it to. It’s not like we can knock you unconscious with it.”

After explaining what Miranda had said, Andrew nodded. “Some ‘white noise’ machines have a setting for that, too. It helps.”

Frowning, I asked, “Why couldn’t you just shoot me with that ray gun of yours?”

Hunter’s smile was sympathetic. “The more natural the cause, the deeper the sleep. The pulse brings about sleep, but almost no REM sleep, which is what’s needed for true rest.”

“Do we have time for this?”

The sable leaned forward. “Think like Rawlins might, if he’s feeling cornered. He’s gotten himself mixed up in something, but he doesn’t know what, at least not consciously; you weren’t able to get too many memories about his past few days. He’s scared. If those operatives are doing their job right, they’ll get the clues that you’ve taken some clothes and scarpered. You’re not likely to return to your apartment; they figure you’ve gone to ground. If they think you’re a pro, they’ll be scouring the city for you, and they won’t give up. They’re hoping you’re an amateur, that you don’t know what you’re doing, and you’ll blunder into their net.”

He smiled, slowly, with satisfaction. “At least, that’s what we want it to look like.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

I might have backed out right then, except that I found myself saying those fateful words: “I’ll sleep on it.”

Sleep, I did, despite my thinking that I wouldn’t. The room was small, a single bed and a table, with the toilet a little way down the hall (I had taken care of that first). The bag with Rawlins’ clothes was already there. After I undressed and lay down, I asked Miranda to try that pulse trick. The sound, or pulse, or whatever, was barely audible. I ignored it, thinking about this insanity, my mind in a whirl wondering what to do… and next thing I knew was Miranda whispering so very softly that it was time to wake up.

“You’re the best alarm clock I’ve ever had,” I said aloud.

“Just don’t try telling anyone that we slept together.” I heard the smile in her voice. “It’s 0630; you’ve had a good seven hours of sleep. Sorry it wasn’t longer. If you’re ready for breakfast, I’ll signal Hunter to come collect you.”

I took a deep breath and expelled it forcefully. “I’ll be dressed when he gets here. Thank you.”

About five minutes later, a knock at the door announced the sable’s arrival. I left with him, and we soon found ourselves at the conference room I’d seen when I first got here. Breakfast was provided — simple, ordinary, but of good quality. If this was standard mess for this covert ops bunch, they were certainly well taken care of.

“Do you ever sleep?” I asked. “Even Miranda is still on the comm. Not that I mind, Miranda.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said.

“I caught some sleep,” Hunter assured me. “We do have rotating shifts, especially for the comm. There are other operatives, including Kayleigh. I know that all this is far too much to take in easily, so I’ve made it a point to add as few new people into the mix as possible, for now. You’ll have a whole network to be your safety net… if you still want to do this.”

The coffee was hot, strong, a good roast. I found the morning ritual calming. “I said I’d sleep on it. I certainly slept.” I considered the cup in the unfamiliar forepaw. It was in my right forepaw, which threw me for a moment, since I’m left-pawed. Again, something like muscle memory had taken over. I was growing more comfortable using this body, but it wasn’t mine, and it wasn’t me. That wasn’t at issue, though; they said they could recover me, one way or another. The point was “the mission.” I knew reruns of the old show, and should you decide to accept it rang in my mind. Just being able to remember it helped to stabilize me further.

“What’s our next move?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Once I’d committed myself, preparation was fast, insanely fast. As Hunter had said, time was a factor. To help get me ready,  I “met” two more voices in my head. The signal for a new voice was simple enough: I would hear “Comm check,” which told me that the voice wasn’t in the room with me. To acknowledge, I could say something aloud, if possible; if not, any sound that I could make that my ear could pick up would be fine. I’d be covered at all times, and the chip in my head would track me electronically. Anyone claiming to be an operative would be verified by Control (not an official name, but it would do).

Final instructions were pored over, including a variety of what I came to think of as “safe words.” When asked one last time if I was good to go, I told them, with quiet confidence, that I was. In truth, I was scared pea-green and shitless, but I wasn’t gonna let them know it.

I was taken, in a simple panel van, to a popular shopping mall. They pulled into one of the loading docks, where there were corridors that served several of the stores. I slipped into them as they brought out some boxes for one of the clothing shops, like making a delivery, and I found my way into the mall proper. Seeing the crowds, even at 9:00am, reminded me of why I hate visiting a mall on Saturdays. It made sense for Rawlins to be there, if for no other reason than that there were plenty of people to hide among. Hunter had also hinted that there was another reason, but I was too nervous to ask what it was.

After a few minutes of slowly walking through the mall, I realized that I had no idea what to do. Being a casual shopper might not work; I reasoned that I was supposed to be more or less in hiding, but hoping that the crowds would prevent anyone from kidnapping me. If I appeared to be furtive, I might attract the attention of mall cops, which would prevent any sort of contact at all, and we wanted to find these people. We’d talked about various contingencies, so I had a grab-bag of options to choose from, and no idea what to pick. They said to do what felt natural. Right. Helpful.

I spent more than two hours wandering the place as best I could, including faux shopping at a clothing store. Part of that problem was that the clothing I wanted to look at was what my feline self would wear. Not exactly a suave choice for a spy in an entirely different body.

The food court had spot for a national coffee chain that, mysteriously, didn’t require an app to order. My own phone had one, but I had only Rawlins’, and he didn’t seem to be a fan. Hoping that he didn’t have heart issues, I got a hot mocha to satisfy my craving for chocolate and paid (another uncommon thing) with cash. Hunter had provided me some, with good reason; even I had enough cop-show background to know that there are ways for credit card usage to get pinged. As the sable pointed out, we didn’t know just how sophisticated Rawlins’ pursuers were. For all we knew, they could ping his phone, too. We’d agreed to have me keep it, wondering if anyone would use it.

“Comm check.”

I saluted the barista who had just passed the cup to me. “Thank you; now, I get to find out if this is as good as Miranda says it is.”

As I moved away from the store, Miranda complimented, “Nice work, Nathaniel. Just confirming that we’ve still got eyes on you. Never mind who; doesn’t help if you attract attention to them by staring. Find a place to sit down for a minute.”

Benches a little distance from the food court seemed less crowded. I made my way there, softly mumbling “Testing.”

“Not bad,” Miranda noted. “A little muted but good attempt. Need anything?”

“Wait ‘til I get to a vench.” I attempted ventriloquism, not moving my lips. “B” is a problematic letter, I realized. I think she got the idea, as she chuckled, but not meanly.

I finally found an empty bench and plunked the dog’s body on it. I missed my feline grace, which was vain of me, and I didn’t a damn. Raising the cup to my lips, I took a sip, savoring the sense of indulgence. Chocolate helps everything.

“Doing better?” she asked.

“Much.” I held the cup near to my lips, savoring the scent of the all-holy beans (both varieties of them). I frowned. “How did…?” I managed.

“Both operatives are wired to me, and we’re tapped into the mall cameras as well. You’re doing very well, Nathaniel. You’ve picked up on the trick of hiding your moving lips behind the coffee cup. You may also discover that no one will really pay much attention to you talking to your navel.”

“Now you tell me.” I spoke softly enough, and there was not even the hint of anyone taking the slightest notice. “How much can I rely upon not being noticed?”

“If anyone does notice, you can improvise your way out of it.”

“You assume I’ve got that kind of calm.”

“You’re doing better than you think you are.” She paused. “What I can see on the mall cameras tells me that our fishing expedition may be about to pay off.”

“Say what?”

“We told you that we hoped someone would locate you. We’ve got eyes on some people who have been watching you for a little while.”

This was not something I really wanted to hear. Rawlins and I were both starting to get nervous. “What do I—”

“Nathaniel, I want you to take a slow sip of your coffee.”

I wanted to ask why, but something told me it would be better just to do as I was told. A moment later, as I finished the swallow with as much savor as I could muster, I was joined by a human male who sat next to me. I’d never him seen before.

Rawlins had.

The adrenaline surge would have been problematic, if the dog had had a bad heart. Luckily, that was not one of his health problems. I found it easy to pluck the information from his memory. The man had appeared in the dog’s life only recently, and he was known only as Mr. Novak. His origins were Czech, but he was thoroughly Americanized. Perhaps 175cm, lean build, middle 50s, a suit made more for summer, absolutely crisp. His face made you think it should wear a monocle, his head and skin and demeanor smooth in the oddly repulsive way that commands respect if only because you sense that he could make things really bad for you.

“You disappoint me, Trevor.” He spoke to the air in front of himself instead of to me directly. His voice was low, unhurried, a slight accent remaining despite having been in this country for more than half of his life. Rawlins knew snippets of Novak’s history, more about his reputation, and nothing about how to deal with him.

“Mr. Novak?” I let the timbre of my question leave the man open to whatever else he wanted to say to me.

“Tracking name: Novak. Keep him talking.”

“Why must I track you down, as if you were a lost non-sapient dog?”

“I don’t…” I gulped, no acting required. “Is this about…?”

“Last night, I sent my representative to you.”

Cringing, my words coming out in a rush, I said, “I didn’t know who he was. He didn’t say you’d sent him. I thought he might be from somebody else. I didn’t want to say anything to the wrong people.”

The man considered this, still without looking for me. “And you ran. You overcame my agent and ran. How did you manage to bring down Odell?”

“The Dobie? I didn’t. He just seemed to crumple, right in front of me.” Perhaps it pays to tell the truth, after all.

Again, he considered. “He has no memory of what happened to him. His explanation was less than satisfactory.”

I felt the words hanging in the air, and I didn’t dare wonder what they might mean.

“Yours isn’t entirely satisfactory,” he continued, speaking to the air. “It is, however, reasonable, erring to the side of caution. It will do.”

Whatever sense of relief I’d hoped to feel didn’t appear with any speed. “Thank you, sir,” I managed lamely.

“And now… tell me where the information is.”

“Get him back to your apartment; don’t give in too quickly.”

“I’m…” I cleared my throat. “Mr. Novak, I am still a little shaken from last night. I only mean to say that I don’t know what form you wanted it in. The Dobie said ‘books,’ and I thought he meant hard copy.”

Novak showed no particular emotion. “In what form did you acquire it?”

“Thumb drive,” I said, as Miranda said the same in my ear.

“Do you have it with you?”

“I wasn’t sure who was after me,” I improvised. “Didn’t want to take the chance of being caught with it on me.”

For the first time, the human turned his head toward me, a slow movement that made me think of a well-oiled automaton. With all the sci-fi I’d seen in the past day, I had no problem thinking he really could be some kind of robot. “Now, you surprise me, Trevor. That was a reasonable precaution to take. How did you think of it?”

“Too many cop shows.”

Something that could have been a smile, if it had come from a being capable of feeling, crossed his face briefly. “Good teachers, aren’t they?” His race regained its neutrality. “Shall we go fetch it?”

“I’d be glad to be rid of it, sir.”

He must have made some signal that I didn’t catch. We were joined shortly by a large Rottweiler and a smaller yet still intimidating German shepherd, both dressed in jeans and t-shirts, as if they were trying to fit in with the shopping crowd. A great many females of all species (and a few males, I thought) eyed them with what I let myself call “appreciation.”

“Sir, do you feel that you need bodyguards against me? I’m old and slow, and I don’t have any intention—”

“We see them, Nathaniel.”

“They will take you to your apartment, Trevor, and they will bring back the thumb drive to me.” Only then did he stand, and I got the clear message to stand up with him. “By the way, what color is it?”

“Green.”

“I think it’s green.” I provided a properly fearful expression, with little acting skill needed. “When I bought them, they came in a pack of five, all different colors, but I think I took the green one with me to work.”

No idea where that last part came from, although there seemed to have been a memory from Rawlins that came up with that piece. I got impressions of his workplace, his job, even a glimpse of the pack of flat thumb drives that he was talking about. I felt a need to keep going.

“Mr. Novak, the other four are still in the package. I don’t use them a lot. I can show you the package…”

“Confirmed; we’ll have it ready.”

The slow raise of his hand made me stop babbling. “You would not try to trick me, Trevor. You can give them the green drive, or even all five drives, if it would ease your mind. I would gladly compensate you for their cost.”

He reached casually into his jacket pocket, withdrawing a fine billfold and pulling from it a single $100 bill, offering it to me as easily as if he were tipping a server. I took it with a slightly trembling forepaw, again without needing to pretend. I managed to whisper my thanks.

“Everett and Joachim will take you there. They have a car waiting.”

“We are tracking, electronic and visual.”

A pause before he asked, “Is that a flavored coffee, Trevor?”

“Yes, sir. Mocha. I have a weakness for chocolate.”

“Perhaps I shall try one as I wait for may aides’ return. Oh, and Trevor?”

“Sir?”

“It would truly spoil my enjoyment of coffee if you are trying to deceive me.” The cold excuse for a smile crossed his lips again. “I’m sure that your indulgence in ‘cop shows’ has prepared you to take my meaning.”

He looked to the Rottie. “Take care of things, Everett, in your usual efficient manner.”

The huge dog lay his big forepaw on my shoulder. “Absolutely, Mr. Novak.”

I felt myself urged forward, Rawlins’ body expressing both of our fears with every aching step toward the mall’s entrance. I began to hate all the time I’d spent watching those damned cop shows.

…to be continued