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rolled on to his side and vomited watery green bile.
    ‘Bloody hell.’ Officer Mary shook her head and looked away. ‘Nothing like a puking drunk to start the day off right.’
    Zack continued to heave, his eyes bulging from the strain. Until finally, with watery eyes anddripping nose, he sucked in a deep breath and managed to relax his muscles, sending his body the message that there was nothing left to expel.
    When he felt strong enough, he lifted the bottle again and took a swallow. This time his stomach retracted its claws and accepted the fluid with only a mild gurgle of protest.
    Water had never tasted so good, and soon the bottle was empty.
    ‘So what happened, sir?’ Colin asked.
    ‘Nothing.’ Zack’s tone was angrier than he intended. ‘Just leave me be.’
    Mary leaned forward and sniffed. ‘You drink the booze or bathe in it?’
    Zack rolled on to his back and stared at the sky. He wished he was dead. There were too many awful things to face and yet he had been unable to take the simplest first step. He felt the weight of the small gun in his pocket; it wasn’t too late.
    ‘You drive in that state?’ Colin asked.
    Zack shrugged, but answered, ‘No.’ His first reflex was still honesty; lying took concentration.
    ‘Were you attacked? The car looks scorched and your clothes . . .’
    Zack shrugged again. He didn’t want to be himself right now. He wanted to be James Cagney in
Angels with Dirty Faces:
tough, defiant, abusive to screws and priests alike. He wanted to sit up straight and cold-cock the handsome son of a bitch. Maybe then the cop’s partner would help him do what he couldn’t. Hell, her act of heroismcould get her on the fast path to the gold shield she coveted; maybe that would make her smile.
    ‘What you grinnin’ at?’ Mary snarled impatiently.
    Zack hadn’t realized he was smiling. He turned to look at the woman. Her eyes were a rather remarkable shade of turquoise.
    ‘You have pretty eyes.’ The words flowed automatically from the one part of his brain he never needed to question, nor doubt. ‘But you need to stop squinting. The deep wrinkles are the hardest to remove.’
    Mary’s face turned red. ‘Who asked for your opinion, asshole?’
    Her partner began to laugh. ‘You know, I think he’s right. You do have nice eyes—’
    Mary stopped him with a cold stare.
    Colin rested his hands on his hips and turned back to Zack. ‘What’s your name, sir?’
    ‘Zack Parker.’
    ‘This your car?’
    Zack nodded.
    ‘You want to report the damage?’
    Zack shook his head.
    ‘You hungry? There’s a great pancake place just a block away.’
    Mary sighed heavily.
    Colin held out his hand until, hesitantly, Zack reached out and grasped it.

10
    Sam stood on the edge of the crater that had been his home.
    A thin ribbon of yellow crime-scene tape surrounded the pit. The tape rustled and rippled as a light breeze tested its temporary bonds. One section, near where Hannah’s potted herb garden would have stood, had already ripped from its post and now fluttered in the wind like an elongated flag. Appropriately, it flew at half-mast.
    A light rain turned the last smouldering embers to mud, and the dull sun, filtered through a veil of cloud, cast the scene in a softer glow than the emergency halogen lights of just hours before.
    Neighbours peeked from behind curtained windows, keeping their distance, not daring to encroach on his space. For this, at least, Sam was thankful. He knew nobody wanted to contemplate how easily this could have happened to them, to their home, their family.
    They would talk among themselves after he wasgone. Some would even visit the hole, mourn the loss of life and thank the universe for being spared. They would call it a tragedy and then begin to forget.
    This realization made Sam feel even more distanced from the ‘normal’ community that Hannah had embraced. Before this, all he lacked was money to keep pace with the business-class neighbours and their