Ossian drove them to Netherton’s RV in a golf cart that made no more noise than the elevator. Netherton had taken the seat beside hers. She could smell the whiskey. Conner sat behind him. Those rafters lit up, one after another, as the cart rolled under them. Past grilles and headlights of all those old cars. She turned, looking back at Conner. "Who’ve you got at your place, when you get back?"