At the next stop sign, Galloway’s Books stood on the northwest corner, one of the larger buildings in town, gray brick from ground to roof. The windows were dark, but an old K-car sat in the parking lot, half-eclipsed by the store.
    “That’s not Tiana’s car,” Zac said.
    “No.” David sat forward. “It’s occupied.”
    They were sitting at the stop sign. No other cars on the street, but Zac got moving again.
    “You think it’s him? Watching for us?”
    “I’m guaranteed to show up there eventually.” David frowned. “Make another pass?”
    Zac drove down a dark neighborhood street and made three quarters of a square to set him back on Main Street. “I’m going to stop at the sign again, give you a chance to see.”
    He’d barely completed the stop this time when David said, “That’s him.”
    “Want me to pull in?”
    “Of course.”
    They were of the same mind, then. Might as well face the guy head-on if he planned to cause trouble. David motioned to Zac to keep the car running and together they got out, without discussion splitting up to approach the car from either side. The windows rolled down. David stopped at the driver side and Zac at the passenger side.
    The interior of the car was dark, and the man had parked away from the floodlight.
    Impressive that David had been so sure from the street, but being shot point-blank had likely seared the details into his brain. Now that he was nearer, Zac could identify the man as well. His shoulders tightened. Their fellow longevite wasn’t the only person in side.
    In the back seat lay a woman. A purple blanket was tucked around her, a fold of it fallen aside to reveal the seat belt awkwardly fastened at her waist.
    “You wanted us to leave you alone,” David said. “Which we’ve done, yet you return here.”
    Way to set an amicable tone.
    “For help,” the man said.
    Of all the possibilities Zac and David had come up with, that wasn’t on the list. 
    Zac leaned nearer to the window. One of the woman’s arms rested outside the covering, her smooth skin bearing an age spot on the back of her hand. Her eyes were closed, her red-gold hair braided over her shoulder, wisps escaped to frame her face, which also showed spots of age.
    She gave a quiet groan, seeming unaware of David and Zac.
    The man twisted in his seat to touch the inside of her wrist with two fingers.
    “Help? You want our help?” David was practically spitting the words.
    “Not for me. For her.”
    “After you shot me, after you accused us of murdering your friends and threatened us with—”
    “David,” Zac said. “I think she’s rejuvinating.”
    David straightened, stepped to the back of the car, and opened the door. He leaned inside and stared at her. The woman opened her eyes, but they remained unfocused.
    “One of your people?” Zac said to the man.
    “Yes.”
    “Why bring her to us?”
    “She’s aging permanently. Dying.”