The light dripping out of the few remaining lit windows coagulated in the humidity. From the playground, Rachael watched as the houses went dark. The small bag at her feet didn’t move at all and shadows turned to wax against everything they touched. Unlit porches and the bricks buckled in the sidewalks like crowded teeth and the weatherworn all shined with night . . .
Bullets zoomed past him in every direction. Detective Crosby ducked behind a barrel in an alleyway near the warehouse. He crouched low—his pistol gripped tight . . .