“I can’t believe she did that!” I punctuated the angry comment by slapping my open palm hard against the side of Ben’s van. The force of the impact joined with the frigid sheet metal to send a loud thump in one direction and a jarring sting up my arm in the other. I instantly regretted the action but did it again anyway. In fact, I did it twice more and would have continued had my friend not circled his hand about my wrist and stopped me mid-swing.

“Calm down,” he barked. “My friggin’ van didn’t do anything to ya’.”

I turned to face him, my infuriation seething outward in hot waves. “Dammit, Ben, she called us up there just so she could try to intimidate me.”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s her style. Whaddaya want me to tell ya’? Now shut up and quit makin’ a scene.”

I took quick notice that my outburst had, in fact, attracted attention from some nearby uniformed officers and crime scene technicians, but I didn’t really care.

“Who the hell does she think she is?!” I demanded as my voice rose well above any necessary volume.

A sudden swath of blue-white light fell across us, struggling to fend off the darkness and expose us to the world. It slashed drunkenly back and forth, growing brighter with each pass. The varied sounds of interested commotion blended with frenzied footsteps at an ever-increasing volume.