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“Does any man? I mean, you guys think you do. You do the wet-toilet-paper wipe-down thing and call it a day.”
“I actually do clean up my beard hair,” he said.
“Uh-huh. I’ll believe it when I see it. Which reminds me, what’s your house like? I should probably know.”
“Small. One-bedroom and a room for plants.”
“For plants?”
“I like plants,” he said. “Do you like plants?”
“I mean, yeah. As long as it’s not me taking care of them. I’ve killed a cactus.”
“Did you overwater it?”
“I didn’t water it at all. I forgot it existed. My kitchen windowsill is more uninhabitable than a desert, apparently.”
He looked amused.
We drove for a few more minutes and pulled into a nice neighborhood. Lieutenant Dan got up and put his face between us to look out the windshield like he knew where he was.
“Do you come to your parents’ house a lot?” I asked, petting the dog.
“We’re a close family. I go there, they come over.”
He rubbed his forehead and I eyed him. “Are you okay?”
He let out a breath. “Just getting a little headache. Grinding my teeth.”
Then he did a sudden double take out the windshield. He pulled the truck over immediately and put it in park.
“What’s up?” I asked.
“I have to get something.” He pulled some rubber gloves and a trash bag from the glove box.
“Uh…what do you have to get?” I asked, looking around the street he’d stopped on. It was residential. Nothing of note.
“I’ll be right back.”
He got out, and I turned to watch him come around the rear of the truck. I stared perplexed as he crouched and started looking at a raccoon carcass in the gutter. He was lifting the arms and turning it over. Then he put it into his trash bag.
I rolled down my window. “Uh, they have people who take care of that?”
“It’s fresh, it’s a good one,” he called.
“Okay? And that’s important why?”
He tossed it in the bed of the truck and came back around to the driver’s side and got back in, peeling off his gloves. “Sorry. I needed to get that for my dad.”
I stared at him. “You needed to bring your dad an unalive raccoon,” I deadpanned.
He put on his seat belt. “My dad’s a taxidermist. He’s been looking for a good raccoon to mount.”
I blinked at him. “And you couldn’t have led with that so I wasn’t afraid I was on a drive with a serial killer?”
He glanced at me and just now seemed to notice the look on my face. “I’m sorry. That was weird.” He looked a little embarrassed. “I should have explained it before I got out. Sorry. I just…I’m nervous and when I’m nervous I…I sometimes miss steps.”
He had his hat-in-hand, puppy-dog look again. That vulnerable expression like he’d done something wrong.
