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“Yes,” I said, nodding, then walking to put Tilly in the backseat.
“It’s not far,” he told me, giving me a small smile before climbing into his car.
I pulled out behind him, following him through my neighborhood, onto one of the main drags, then into another neighborhood.
His was nicer than mine.
Which wasn’t surprising.
He was a bit older than I was. And cops in Jersey were paid well.
If I had to guess, I would put his darling little Cape Cod style home at about two-thousand square feet.
Not huge.
But big enough for sure.
It was all white wooden shingles, black shutters, and that steep style of roof with three dormers that this kind of house was known for.
The backyard was fully fenced, hiding all of its secrets.
The front was well-kept, but there was nothing ornamental about it. No flower beds or fall decorations. Which I wasn’t expecting, but thought it would add so much to the curb appeal.
At the slamming of our doors in the driveway, there was a faint woofing coming from inside, making Tilly’s ears perk up as I led her out of the backseat.
“He doesn’t even come to the window anymore to look,” Wells said, smiling. “Just assumes his half-hearted bark from his bed is enough to scare away bad guys.”
“How old is he?” I asked as I grabbed my bag.
“He’s nine,” Wells told me as we walked up the front path toward the door. “When he wants to be, he’s as spry as a puppy. Goes on walks like a champ. But when he’s home, he sleeps on a round bed as big as an inner tube most of the day.”
“I mean, I would do the same if I could,” I said, getting a delicious little chuckle out of Wells as he unlocked his door.
Tilly’s nose was on the floor immediately, likely smelling Boss all around.
I was too busy taking in his house to really notice her moving around, though.
The living room featured a small sectional facing a stone fireplace with a TV affixed over it.
The coffee table had a folder with some pages slipping out, and I wondered if it was my case he was studying.
But then I heard the tip-tap of a dog moving our way, and felt myself tensing.
“It’s fine,” Wells assured me. “Boss, sit,” he demanded, and Boss dropped his booty right to the floor. “Let Matilda sniff him,” he said, and she was happy to do so, moving over to his gorgeous German Shepherd. Tentatively. Sniffing him, eyeing him.
But, slowly but surely, both their tails started wagging.
Then, surprising me more than anyone, Tilly did that thing where she dropped down onto her forearms with her butt high in the air.
With that, the two of them were off, Tilly’s leash still attached.
“Knew they’d get along,” he said, snagging Tilly as she rushed past to unclip her leash. “Tour?” Wells asked.
“Yes, please,” I said, giving him an eager smile.
The living room was connected to the kitchen—all new stainless steel appliances, a fancy coffee machine, and not much else.
“No dining room?” I asked, spinning around to double-check. There was a small table in the kitchen, but no room meant for dining.
