"Good news, Philadelphia! Unless there's a big, bad, lurking booby trap out there somewhere, we did it. We survived Y2K! What've you got planned for 2000? Call me with your New Year's. . ."
John Quinn reached for the ignition key and turned off the car engine, cutting the DJ off in mid-sentence. New Year's resolutions? All he wanted was to get through the next half hour.
He glanced again at the house across the street as he had been doing since he pulled up ten minutes ago. The drapes were drawn, but the lights were on. Both cars were in the driveway.