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I narrowed my eyes and corrected him. “Close,” I said. “Cinnamon rolls. How’d you know?”
“I’m a cop. I know everything.”
I put on my coat and scarf, and grabbed my bag off the hook. I was too tired to mess with gloves. The cold air stung my cheeks and I said, “If we don’t get warmer weather soon I’m going to have to leave you and retire south. This has been the longest winter ever.”
Jack flashed his lights at me so I’d see him and I waved. “I’d just follow you. Anytime you’re ready to leave just say the word.”
“Well, technically we could have been somewhere warm this weekend but you wanted to go to the Purple Pig.”
“I feel like we’ve already had this conversation,” he said.
“Just thought it was worth mentioning again.”
I hauled myself into the Suburban, trying to display the appropriate amount of energy to prove him wrong about the sugar crash. But my attempt proved to be in vain when my foot slipped on the running board and I half fell into my seat.
“You all right there?” Jack asked, laughter in his voice.
“Hush,” I said. “It was slick.”
“It’s completely dry outside.”
“Didn’t I tell you to hush? I don’t need this kind of negativity in my life.” I started the car and plugged in my phone so Jack came through on the speaker. I backed out of the drive and then turned onto Anne Boleyn for the twenty-minute drive home.
“So do you want to know what I found out about Sowers or do you want to keep busting my chops?” I asked.
“Why can’t both be an option?” Jack asked.
“I’m too tired to answer that,” I said. “My eyes feel fuzzy.”
“That’s a shame,” he said. “I find I’m full of energy. I was hoping you’d help me with that.”
“I think you’re out of luck,” I said. “That part of my body went to sleep a long time ago.”
“That sounds like a challenge to me,” he said, laughing.
“You’re in much too good of a mood,” I said. “Things must have gone well at the station.”
“I’ll let you change the subject for now,” he said. “But I’m onto you.”
I smiled and squinted my eyes to see the road better. “No doubt. When did this road get so narrow? The Suburban barely fits.”
“That’s because you’re driving in the ditch. There’s a bridge coming up so you probably want to fix that.”
“Oh,” I said, and brought the Suburban back to the middle of the road so I could drive over the narrow bridge that brought us over Machodoc Creek. “Thanks for that.”
“Anytime,” Jack said. “We’ve got everyone who was at dinner with the victim in holding for the time being. We’ll start interviews at six, so I’ve only got a couple of hours.”
“Then you need to spend it sleeping instead of trying to wake up my sleepy parts.”
“I’ve never needed much sleep,” he said, his voice husky.
“Crazy how opposites attract like that,” I said.
“All right, all right,” he said. “We’ll go straight to bed.”
“Sleep,” I corrected.
“That’s what I said.”
