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So he drove back into town and to the police station.
He considered himself lucky to find Jake in his own office, coffee at his elbow as he scowled at his computer screen.
“Thank Christ! A distraction. Paperwork, the root of all evil. Close the door.” He waved at it. “I’m taking five. Who let you out of the cage at this time of day?”
“My door’s always open.” Even knowing it would taste like overheated tar, Miles helped himself from Jake’s coffeepot. “Have you heard from the feds today?”
Jake propped his feet, clad in his usual black Converse low-tops, on his desk. “Why would you ask?”
“Because I just got an update from Morgan.”
“I haven’t gotten any new information since Morrison let me know they missed him in Kansas City, but found a nice treasure trove in his hotel room. Fucker’s luck’s got to change, but from the look on your face, I’d say it hasn’t changed enough for them to have bagged him.”
“Not yet.”
While Miles filled him in, Jake sat back, sipped his coffee. Someone who didn’t know him well might’ve thought he was drifting off. Miles knew him and very well.
“He’s not only running, he’s leaving a trail. He’s breaking down. He’s not used to things going south on him, and in a lot of ways they’ve headed there since he missed Morgan.”
Not just the same page, Miles thought, but the same paragraph. An advantage of knowing someone a lifetime.
“Do you think he’ll keep running?”
“For a while. He needs to find a hole he can live in, and with, and replace some of what he lost. He needs all that not only to continue what he sees as his work, but to regain his confidence. How can you feel superior when you lost some of the tools that help you feel superior? He’s got to be scared, and he’s got to be pissed.”
“And?”
“If you piss off a rabid dog, Miles, that dog’s bound to go for your throat. Still, there’s a human brain in this rabid dog, so he’s going to do whatever he needs to do to protect himself before he goes for her throat.”
Jake drank more coffee. “You don’t have to ask. We’ll keep patrolling by the house, and I’ll add to that.”
“I had Clark install one of those home surveillance systems—that you can check on your phone. He’s putting one on my place now, since she stays there sometimes.”
Jake let out a snort. “Miles Jameson’s putting one of those smart and fancy security systems on the old homestead? Son, you’ve got it bad.”
“I’ve got what I’ve got. Plus, it’s temporary.”
“Morgan or the system?”
Miles started to speak, then settled for a shrug.
“Well, I gotta say, I never figured you’d settle in on anyone like that high-end brunette. The blonde now, yeah, she’s right up your alley.”
“I don’t have an alley.”
“Pal, we’ve both got alleys. She’s a looker, no doubt, but that runs second or third in your personal alley. She’s fucking resilient, and that lives in your alley along with smart, responsible, and rooted.”
And, Miles realized, the disadvantage of having someone know you for a lifetime.
“She hasn’t had a chance to root.”
“Wants to, though, doesn’t she? That’s easy enough to see. I like her, but even if I didn’t, I’d make sure we do our best to keep her safe.”
“I know it.” Counted on it. “I’ve got to get to work.”
“Me, too. But before that, I should tell you, since I live in the friendship lane of your alley.”
“Alleys have lanes?”
