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He kept going over the scene in his head. He kept questioning his decisions during the fight. Maybe it was a mistake to take out the three men, first. Maybe the gunshots alerted the two men out front and caused them to start shooting at Mallory sooner. But if he’d gone for the two front men first, then Mallory would’ve been alone against three. And even if he had somehow managed to meet Mallory before them, there was no way he could have convinced the officer that he wasn’t also there to kill him. Maybe he didn’t have to convince him, though. Maybe if he’d--. Maybe he could’ve--. Maybe...

When he arrived home, he found himself alone again. His parents were still out, probably at a restaurant, considering the hour. Garovel had left as soon as Hector began to recognize buildings.

He made his way upstairs and threw his bag on the bed. He wondered if he would have time to relax at all. He wasn’t tired, exactly, but he felt like he should be. He sat down to take his shoes off. A bit of blood had seeped into his right sock.

‘I’m at home,’ he told Garovel. ‘I’ll be changed soon.’

‘I’m at the scene.’

‘What have you learned?’

‘Apparently, the daughter was upstairs the whole time.’

‘Holy shit...’ Hector’s brow lowered, and he scratched his head. ‘Sh-she... she heard the gunshots and everything...?’

‘I’m looking for her now. Word is, she saw a black male in a red shirt and a strange mask fleeing the crime scene.’

‘Of course...’

There was a long pause. ‘Shit.’

‘What’s the matter?’

‘I see her. She has the aura. Rofal put the hit on her, too.’