Rhiannon slumped in the back seat while the yellow line materialized in the headlights. The city glittered in the starlight like a cheap sequin gown tossed across a shallow canyon. She rolled down the window.

“Are you hungry?”

Rhiannon leaned her face into the wind. “Yes.”

Rossi half-turned in his seat. “What do you want?”

“Jack in the Box?”

“All right, then.”

Prentiss found a frontage road jammed full of motor courts and fast food places. She pulled out of traffic. She parked the car and Rhiannon hauled her purse into her lap. She yanked it open and started to dig. Rossi put up a hand. “I’ll get it. What do you want?”

“Jumbo Jack with Cheese.” She looked at him. “And a big Coke.”

He nodded. “Emily, do you want anything?”

She shook her head.

Rossi climbed out of the car, slammed the door shut, and strode toward the garish restaurant. A breeze puffed in off the highway, smelling like oil stains, sun-blasted concrete, and the ghosts of flattened condiment packets. Prentiss glanced in the rearview. “Those are some nice tats.”

Rhiannon gave a half-smile. “Thanks.”

“I especially like the one you’ve got here.” She touched the space beneath her collarbones. “That’s some really great detail work.”

Rhiannon’s fingertips crept to the hummingbird inked into her chest. The pointed green wings spread out beneath the shape of her collarbones, its long beak sipping nectar from a red flower tattooed in the hollow of her throat. The petals of the blossom twitched in the grip of her pulse. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s Ronnie Boy’s work. He’s a fucking artist, all the way. He’s still around, if you’re interested. I’ve got a card somewhere.”

Prentiss laughed. “Oh no. I don’t think so.”

“Oh, come on. Just a little heart for the old man. With some angel wings. Right over the tit.” Rhiannon grinned. “He’ll like it.”

“Nah, there’s no old man. Besides, I’m not exactly the tattoo type.”

“Everyone’s the tattoo type,” said Rhiannon, leaning up against the back of the passenger seat. “Some folks just don’t know it yet. You know, I can’t believe a smoking hottie like you is single. There’s no justice in this world, is there?”

Prentiss blushed a little. Rossi approached the car with a paper sack in one hand and a huge drink in the other. Rossi handed Rhiannon her drink through the open window. She tilted her chin toward Prentiss. “You think she’s smoking hot, right?”

He opened the door. “Pardon me?”

Rhiannon nestled the drink into the holder. “Agent Prentiss. I was just telling her that she’s too hot to be single.”

“This job doesn’t leave us a lot of leftover time.” He sounded amused. “Of course, Agent Prentiss is a very attractive woman.”

Prentiss started the car. “Okay, Dave, you can stop now.”

Rhiannon took a suck off her straw. “Thanks for the food.”

“No problem.” Rossi buckled his seat belt.

“So where are we going?”

Prentiss glanced in the rearview. “Are you familiar with the Campbell Center?”

Rhiannon pulled her cheeseburger out of the bag. “That’s a research hospital, isn’t it?”

Rossi rested his arm on the window. “It is.”

“Isn’t that like in Henderson or something?”

“Yeah.”

Rhiannon took a bite. “It’s kind of a drive to Henderson.”

Rossi turned his face into the wind.

“So that’s where Carl is. We’re going to see Carl. Catatonic Carl. Oh that’s just fucking fabulous. How…how sweet. You guys are pieces of fucking work, let me tell you.” Rhiannon dropped her half-eaten burger into the bag. She leaned over, her crooked elbow flattened on the back of the headrest, and peered at Rossi’s face in the side mirror. “Do you get that a lot? ‘Oh, you’re a piece of fucking work?’ Because you sure as hell are.”

Rossi looked at her. “That’s a nice tattoo you’ve got there on your neck. I like the design. I see you have it on your wrists, too. Do you like hummingbirds, Rhiannon?”

She leaned her face between the headrest and the car. “I like a lot of things, Agent Rossi.”

Prentiss’s shoulders tightened. She kept her eyes on the road.

“I like cigarettes,” said Rhiannon. “Do you mind if I smoke?”

“Not at all.”

“Terrific.” A corner of Rhiannon’s mouth twitched into a grin. “I have enough to go around. Do either of you smoke? I can share.”

“No,” said Prentiss. “Thank you.”

“Not for twenty years or so.” Rossi patted the outside of the door. “But I appreciate the gesture.”

Rhiannon fished a cigarette out of her purse. “Suit yourselves.” She lit up and blew smoke toward the ceiling. She leaned back into the seat. She crossed her legs and stuck the tip of her cigarette out the window, letting let the wind shear off the ashes.