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the truth.
    “Ms. James? What do you think happened to that man?”
    Miranda couldn’t tell the truth, but decided to stick to the closest approximation of it that she could. “M-m-maybe lightning h-hit him.”
    O’Hara nodded. “Maybe. His injuries are somewhat consistent with the effect of a lightning burn. But that was an awfully convenient lightning bolt, don’t you think? It managed to hit right when you, and Mrs. Dobrusky, needed it to.”
    Miranda didn’t say anything. What could she say?
    “Don’t you find the timing interesting?”
    Miranda’s phone buzzed again, making her jump, and reminding her that she hadn’t checked the message she’d received a moment ago.
    “Ms. James?”
    “Sorry. I just got a text. My phone is in my pocket and it’s set to vibrate.”
    “I can see how that might have been startling.”
    It was, and not only physically. Who could be contacting her? A job? A logical guess, but probably not a correct one. She’d finished one job yesterday, and all her clients knew she took a week break before starting another. But Detective O’Hara didn’t know that. Maybe she could use the text as a way to get this interview to end.
    “Um, I’m sure that was a client. I have a ton of work to do today. Do you think I could go soon?”
    Another of the detective’s trademark pauses.
    “One more question,” she finally said.
    Miranda wanted to bounce up and down in her chair. She was almost done! Almost free to go back and hide in her safe little hole again.
    The detective shuffled the papers in front of her, tidying the already neat pile. Without looking at Miranda, she asked, “Who is Arc Angel?”
    It was like a hundred pounds of lead had appeared on Miranda’s shoulders, pressing her down into the chair. Talking about the mugger had been bad enough, but this… She did not want to talk about this, especially since she suspected that the true answer to the question was “I am.”
    What had she told the police officer last night?
    “Sh-she’s a comic b-b-book character. A superhero.”
    “Any reason you mentioned her last night?”
    Only because she’d become her.
    “I-I’m a fan. Maybe I f-felt like her last night, f-facing off against a bad guy or something.”
    Yeah, that was convincing. Miranda waited for the detective to pull out the handcuffs.
    Instead, the woman stared at the paperwork for another moment and then smoothly tucked it all back into the file folder.
    “I think we’re done here for now. We are not currently pressing any assault charges against you, so you’re free to go.” Detective O’Hara picked up the recorder and spoke into it. “This concludes the interview with Miranda James.” She clicked it off and rose. “I’ll walk you out.”
    Miranda stood uncertainly and followed O’Hara out of the cramped grey room and down the hall.
    So what’s the catch?
    If only she had the courage to actually ask the question. But despite feeling more relaxed with Detective O’Hara now than when they’d begun, Miranda knew she wouldn’t be able to get the words out. Or at least not intelligibly. The last thing she wanted was to look like an even bigger idiot in front of the detective. Of course, potential murderer and huge liar would be hard to top, but Miranda knew she could humiliate herself further if she tried.
    They’d reached the front of the station again, and the detective ushered her out the door, and back into freedom. Miranda couldn’t stand it any more.
    “That man,” she blurted. “Is he going to be okay?”
    “Your alleged assailant? He should be fine. Apparently he’s already in good enough shape to be taking calls from the tabloids.”
    Thank god. At least she hadn’t killed him.
    And now for her second stupid question.
    “I’m really free to go?”
    “You’re really free to go. Thank you for coming down today I’ll call you, er, e-mail you if I have more questions. Enjoy the rest of your day.”
    Detective O’Hara turned to head