Maybe he's been around the Durants too long, or he's met too many oily types in his day, but Lyall can't find it in himself to trust someone dressed too well with absolutely no weapon or guard. And definitely not when they go looking for monsters.

He puts down his pen as if it's an effort he's not happy about, and sits back into his flimsy plastic chair. "A detective in a snowstorm? I think people would prefer someone killing the things to investigating them."