Goodnight's voice came through a fog. Billy almost flinched, almost pulled--nothing. He didn't have his issued firearm or the one he normally had, any of his knives. He breathed with his head down on the edge of the sink, trying to banish the image of Elias in the stairwell, the back of his head, the blood.

He breathed. He tried to breathe.

"Tell me," he whispered. "Tell me about the owl. Goody?"