"Mi casa es tu casa." When he hesitated, I said, "You're always welcome at my place, Jack."
He grunted something and slid into the car as I put the box into the trunk. I got in the passenger's side. When he started up the car, I put my hand out.
"Can I do some reading on the drive?"
"Too dark."
"Jack . . ."
"Get some sleep. Long drive. Switch off at the border."
I sighed, shook my head, and ratcheted my seat back.
Jack's not one for speeding--at least not too far over the limit. It calls attention to yourself. But when I woke up at the border in Buffalo, it wasn't yet three in the morning. I was ready to take over, but Jack said no, he was awake, just let him grab a coffee and he'd be fine.
I would have argued, but I was barely conscious. I drifted off under the blaring lights of a Tim Hortons drive-through as he was asking me if I wanted anything. I woke again to more lights, these ones on the 401 as we passed through Toronto. I drank my lukewarm coffee and ate my chocolate-dipped donut. Then I said I had to use the bathroom, but I was really just getting him to pull over so I could insist on switching out. He let me. We were only an hour from home.
Jack didn't sleep on the rest of the drive. He sat there, quietly gazing out the windshield, until we pulled off the regional highway and onto the back roads.
"Almost six," he said. "Think you can slip in?"
He meant we should try to make it look as if we'd gotten back hours ago. Like I said, it was unlikely anyone would compare the timelines of my arrival and Aldrich's suicide, but it was better to establish an alibi.
"I can certainly try. The problem will be Scout. She sleeps in my room and as soon as I get upstairs, she'll go nuts."
"I'll get her. Bring her down." He paused. "Think she remembers me?"
"You were up a few months ago. She's a little scatterbrained, but she's a smart dog. And she's not big enough to rip your face off yet." I pulled into the drive. "I'll park in the rear lot so-- Shit! The rental car. Drew Aldrich is about to be found dead in Cleveland, and I come home in a rental with plates from--"
"New York. Got a car with New York plates."
"Which I never even noticed. Okay. If you can take my bag up and toss it in my room, I'll head off for a morning jog. You grab a room and some rest."
He started getting out of the car.
"Oh," I said. "Since you'll be resting, I'll have time to read. Why don't you give me that journal--"
"Later."
CHAPTER 13
I was waiting at the boathouse, changed into my jogging outfit, when Jack brought Scout out. I could hear her whining as she pranced about, being remarkably restrained for a six-month-old puppy. Then she caught a whiff of me on the breeze.
By the time Jack reached me, I was on my ass, gasping for breath as I struggled to get out from under sixty pounds of very excited German shepherd.
"Think she missed you," Jack said.
"No kid--" I made a face as I got an unexpected mouthful of puppy tongue. "Blech. Just a warning--don't attempt to talk when you're on her level unless you like French-kissing dogs."
A soft chuckle. I gave Scout a hug as she whined and danced, then I pushed to my feet.
"Also, if she jumps up, knee her back down. Please. I know it's cute, but in a few months, it won't be and we're really trying to break her of that."
"Yeah. Getting big."
"And she has barely begun to grow into her ears and paws, which means she's got a lot left to go. Apparently, white shepherds get even bigger than black-and-tans."
"Huh."