He knew he had her when he saw amusement rather than annoyance in her eyes. “What’s the power?”
“You asked for it.” He adopted a long-suffering tone twined with glittering affection. “I just can’t understand why you’d want me to worry this way. It’s not like you to be so selfish. It’s such a little thing to ask, and would do so much to relieve my mind.”
“Oh, that’s … that’s masterful.”
“She doesn’t use it often. Doesn’t need to,” he added with a hint of aggravation, “as the aftereffects can last for years. Possibly decades. Just a quick text, Morgan, after you’re safe inside.”
No, no one had ordered her around before. And no one but her family, her ladies, had ever worried about her like this.
“A remote version of you watching until I drive out of sight or go into the house. Okay, fine, but don’t blame me for messing up your sleep cycle.”
“Let’s go get that tutorial. He claims there’s nothing to it.”
“I’m not going to thank you for the camera and doorbell thing, but.” Taking his face in her hands, she kissed him. “I’m glad you came by so soon after I got the call about Rozwell. I’m grateful I had you to talk it through with, and appreciate you rearranged things at work so I could. So I’ll say thanks for that.”
“I told you, you matter. Now let’s go find out how this damn thing works, since I’m getting stuck with one, too.”
She took his hands again. “I like that part.”
“Can’t blame you.”
When he left her, Miles called his office and rescheduled something else. He’d work late, make up the time. Unlike a psychopath, he could change patterns and habits when necessary.
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.