"Come on," Mika said, still holding the pepper spray like she might need it again. Her knuckles were white around the canister. "My place isn't far."

I didn't argue. What was I going to do, go back to the diner where my face was probably still on the TV? Sleep in an alley where thugs knew to look for lost girls with supposedly deep pockets?

So I followed her through streets I didn't know, past houses with peeling paint and yards full of plastic toys. Dogs barked behind chain-link fences. A ...