A trio of spotlights casts a murky orange glow over the parking lot of the Van Cortlandt Industrial Park’s one and only Nathan’s Gourmet Express restaurant. Amy switches on her Harley Roadraider, then stares blindly through the technical readouts that briefly appear on the inside of her helmet’s visor. Unfortunately, staring blindly doesn’t help. Worrying won’t help. And sitting here like a statue won’t get her closer to home or to bed.