The M4 was doing what it did on open road when the phone connected through the speakers and Elsa's voice came through.
"Liam."
"Yeah," he said.
"You need to come to the store," she said. "There is something here that needs to be handled by you specifically."
He looked at the road ahead. "How bad."
"Come," she said.
He gritted his teeth, felt the specific feeling of a night that had already contained more than enough and was apparently not finished with him, and looked at the junction coming up ahead.
He turned the wheel.
The M4 drifted through the junction, the rear stepping out and finding grip again on the other side of the turn, and he straightened up and pressed the accelerator and headed toward the store.
---
He heard it before he got through the door.
A voice, male, the specific register of someone who had decided they were not being heard and had concluded that volume was the solution to that problem. Liam pushed the door open and came in.
