XVII.
Day Thirteen, Still Tuesday
Three Dead
“Thought you were just grabbing a coffee,” Missy said when Jacob walked into the room. She was working cross-legged on the bed, her computer on her lap. “Where’s your coffee? Where’s Quincy?”
Jacob couldn’t look her in the eyes.
“Oh, my God. What happened?” She pushed the laptop away. “Jacob?”
He closed the door and perched next to her on the bed. “The sicario who jumped off the balcony? She was here.”
“What happened?” Missy teared up. “Where’s Quincy?”
“She didn’t hurt him,” Jacob said quickly. “But she took him. The police are looking for her now.”
Missy cupped her hands to her mouth. “My Quincy.” She raised her face to the ceiling and took a few measured breaths, trying to keep the tears from flowing.
“She won’t hurt him,” he promised, although he had no idea what the sicario would or wouldn’t do. It was possible Quincy was already cut up into little puppy bits, the pieces waiting in several Priority Mail envelopes to be shipped to them over the next few days. “We’ll get him back.” In one piece. “The police’ll find her. I got her license plate.” I think. He was pretty sure it was F25-1985. He knew for a fact the plates were from Illinois. Even without the actual plate number, there likely wouldn’t be a ton of Illinois-plated Chryslers roaming the streets of Duluth. He said, “They’ll get her.”
Missy took a deep breath. “Is that what Breeland said?”
“I haven’t talked to him, but here.” Jacob dialed Officer Breeland’s number.
“Mr. White,” the officer said after one ring. “How in the world does this keep happening? That was the sicario who jumped from the balcony, right?”
“Yeah, it was,” Jacob said. “And I have no clue.”
“Well, we’ll get her.”
“So you haven’t heard anything on Quincy, then?”
“Nothing so far. You’ll be the first to know when I do. Until then—”
“You think it’ll take long to find him?”
“Hard to say. We’re out there looking.”
“Is it possible for someone to keep an eye on us from now on?”
“We’ve been watching you.”
“Yeah, but I mean like actually be here with us.”
“Oh. I wish we could, but that’s really not feasible. We don’t have the officers or the budget for that. Trust me, though. We’re checking in on you as often as we can.”
Missy rolled her eyes. Jacob opened his mouth to say something but held his tongue.
Breeland said, “Doesn’t seem like we’re dealing with a professional here. It’s just a matter of time until she’s in custody. Keep your head up.”
“Will do my best,” Jacob said, sighing.
As he hung up, Missy said, “We can’t stay here.”
“I know. I got an Airbnb.” Jacob showed her the photos on his phone.
“Then I’ll get packed.” Missy scooted off the bed.
“But it won’t be ready for a couple hours,” he added.
She started tossing clothes into her suitcase. “I don’t care. Let’s just get out of here.”
“Where’re we going to go?” Jacob wandered to the window and stared at the highway and the mall beyond it, searching for Chryslers. There were a few, but none had the white and blue with red lettering to indicate an Illinois origination.
“I don’t know,” Missy said. “Think of somewhere.”
As Missy gathered the last of her items, an email from the Airbnb homeowner popped up on Jacob’s phone.
Greetings, Mr. White,
I’m sorry, but there’s a problem at my place. The last tenant clogged the toilet and let it run. Water’s everywhere. It’s being cleaned, but the place is in no shape for your arrival. However, with that said, I’ve got another place you can stay. It’s ready if you want it. Please let me know.
—Greg
“That sucks,” Jacob said. He showed Missy the message. “Guess we’ll just take the other one?”
Missy pursed her lips. Her brow drooped. “Just cancel with”—she leaned in to see the screen—“cancel with Greg and find something else.”
“But this late in the day? What if there’s nothing else available?”
Missy shook her head. “A last-minute plumbing issue? I’ve heard of scams like this.”
“Really?” He studied the email. “It’s a scam?”
Grabbing her wedge sandals and slipping them on, Missy said, “We can talk about it more in the car. I want to drive around some. Maybe Quincy was let go, and we’ll spot him.”
“That’d be great. I like that idea.” Jacob pocketed the phone and quickly circled the room, gathering his things.
Envisioning a successful Quincy recovery mission, they checked out (the late cancellation fee charged to Simon’s agency) and tossed their suitcases into the backseat of the hatchback.
“Going to be a little windy,” Jacob warned, pointing out the fact that his window didn’t exist anymore.
Missy barely looked at it. “Least of my worries.”
Jacob sped out of the parking lot, eyes peeled, but the great Quincy rescue fizzled fast. The neighborhood around the hotel wasn’t segmented into neat, compact blocks that would’ve made searching systematic and manageable, but rather, it was all large chunks of asymmetric, wooded land and wandering roads. Unless Quincy was standing right there in the roadside ditch, they weren’t going to spot him. Neither admitted as much, though, and Jacob kept driving. Better than nothing.
Progressing outward, expanding the search area, they eventually came into the hills around Enger Park. The sharp delineation between land and lake, created by prehistoric geological events, actually went all the way up the North Shore. Split Rock. Gooseberry Falls. Enger Park. It all made for some spectacular overlooks of the whitecapped waters.
And from this particular perch in Enger Park where Jacob and Missy were driving, one also could look upon the entirety of Duluth’s downtown.
“You know,” Jacob said, “we’re not far from the Coffee Princess.”
“Ah, no,” Missy huffed.
“It’s not about the coffee,” Jacob protested. “I want to talk to Emmelia. The sicario was there. I should let her know what happened.”
Missy groaned. “Not about the coffee, my butt. Call her if you’re so worried.”
“Okay, fine, I admit it. I could really use a cappuccino right now.”
Missy didn’t protest. “So long as you admit it. Go get your fix, you addict.”
“But I do want to tell Emmelia what happened too,” Jacob said, continuing down the hill to the harbor and then darting over to the coffee shop.
Emmelia wasn’t there, though. “She stepped out on an errand,” the smiling barista told them. “She’s due back any minute if you want to wait.”
Jacob scanned the café. It seemed quiet enough—just a few college students with their book bags, laptops, and notes. He glanced at Missy.
“A couple minutes is fine.”
Jacob asked the barista, “Can I get a cappuccino?”
“Sure thing.” She rung him up. “I’ll bring it out when it’s ready,” she said, still smiling.
Jacob smiled back, and he and Missy went off to grab a table against the wall.
They hadn’t talked about the Airbnb at all during their drive, so Jacob said, “You want to book a different Airbnb? It’s almost one thirty.”
Missy had pulled out her canister of pepper spray and was cupping it in her hands. “Call customer service and see if they can help us get something, then.”
The mention of a call sent the hairs on Jacob’s neck standing on end. “Oh, shit. I forgot about the adoption agency. We were supposed to talk at one.”
“What? You never told me about that.”
“I forgot. I’m sorry. I scheduled it the other day when I was at the police station. Damn it.”
“Call them now.”
“I am,” he said, and hit the speaker.
“Don’t do that. There’s people around.”
Jacob brought the phone to his ear. He didn’t have a good feeling about this, which might’ve been why he’d let it slip his mind. That or you were attacked by the cartel again. The agency still hadn’t told him the exact reason for the call. He tried to tell himself they only wanted to clarify something on the paperwork, or maybe the news was so good that congratulations were in order.
That’s it. Congratulations.
“Yes? Hello? Yes. This is Jacob White. So sorry I’m late. Things got a little hectic today.”
“Don’t say that,” Missy whispered.
“Just one of those days,” Jacob added with a wry chuckle. “Anyway…” He paused and listened as the woman spoke. He nodded slightly. “Sure. Sure.” He gave Missy a look of uncertainty. He couldn’t tell where the conversation was headed. The woman was explaining the adoption process, which he knew all about. “Oh, glad to hear Morena’s doing well. Playing with the other girls finally? That’s great to hear.”
But then Jacob’s face went flat. The rejection was worse than any he’d gotten before—all the literary agents saying no, the FBI kicking him out of the academy, the university’s thanking him for his application but regrettably passing. It’d been well over a decade since his dad had died, and maybe time had muted that memory, but this woman telling him that their application to adopt Morena was being denied felt so much worse.
Missy knew. She dropped her head and stared at the tabletop. A tear hit a knot in the wood next to her hand.
Jacob kept himself composed for the duration of the call. No, he had no questions. Yes, he’d call if he did. Thanks.
He set the phone on the table. The cappuccino with latte art in the shape of a heart sat near the edge. He hadn’t noticed the barista setting it down. She’d already retreated behind the espresso machine.
Jacob ignored the coffee and grabbed Missy’s hands.
“There’s another family who’s been waiting a few years,” Jacob explained. “They’re in Texas. They have a couple of their own girls. Morena will be taken care of.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “It’s okay.” The tightness in his chest and the tremble in his voice betrayed his belief in that assurance.
Missy looked at him and attempted a smile. “I know.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “Didn’t think it’d hit me this hard.” Her sad smile grew. “Ugh. What a fucking roller coaster.”
Jacob’s own ride was reaching a peak, then it plunged into a steep decline. But the disappointment and sadness didn’t intensify. It actually flipped. It went to determination and anger.
He grabbed his phone and called Tina. When she answered, he said, “Start hammering the anti-cartel posts.”
“That’s a reversal,” Tina said.
“Make them look like the shit they are. Post as much as you can.”
“I like to hear that. Absolutely can do.”
Jacob then called Simon. “If I get this book finished early, can we push up the publication date?”
“Probably not an issue. How early?”
“Don’t know. I’m buckling down and getting it done, though.”
“Great. What changed?”
“Everything.”
“Well, okay then. Keep me updated. I’ll let people know.”
Jacob set the phone on the table.
Missy was looking at him, concern but also understanding in her brown eyes.
“Might as well, right?” He grabbed the coffee and took a long swig. “I’ll get that gun permit too. And sign up for that training class.”
“They’ve got Quincy,” she reminded him.
He shook his head. “We’ve been careful this whole time, and everything keeps getting worse.” He squeezed her hand. “Been running. Been hiding. They feed off it. We need to confront them. Should’ve from the beginning. They don’t respect anything but aggression.”
“Amy said you wanted to see me?” Emmelia stood behind them. She saw the remnants of the tears. “Oh. Is everything okay?”
“Things’ve been better,” Jacob admitted.
Emmelia nodded. “I can come back.”
“No, it’s fine,” Missy said.
Emmelia clasped her fingers in front of her. “I finally saw the news about Fitger’s.”
“There’ll probably be some news about this morning too,” Jacob added.
Emmelia’s eyes widened. She grabbed a chair and pulled it over. Leaning over the table and lowering her voice, she said, “Some lady was in here asking about you. Did something happen? I called the cops, but she took off. Don’t tell me she did something.”
Jacob told her everything up until the recent phone call. She didn’t need to know about the rejection.
Emmelia fell back in her chair. “Wow.” After the briefest of moments, she leaned forward again. “You need another hotel? I can get you a hotel. I have a friend who works at the Edgewater. No cost. And she won’t put you in the guest registry.”
“I think we’re over hotels,” Missy said. “Just have to find an Airbnb somewhere private.”
Emmelia had an epiphany. She clutched them both. “My place! Stay with me. It’s out a ways and so quiet.”
“That’s nice of you, but—” Jacob mumbled.
“Oh, come on,” Emmelia pressed. “Just promise me, when you write your book, you’ll send me a signed copy.”
He gestured to the empty coffee cup. “If I mention Coffee Princess, can I get cappuccinos for life?”
Emmelia grinned. “Absolutely. But seriously, you should stay at my place.”
Missy raised a contemplative brow. “You have the space?”
“Plenty. It’s a three-story.”
Jacob and Missy considered it.
“You guys seriously want to go to some random Airbnb? And how do you know the next one won’t be a scam too?”
“I know,” Missy said with an annoyed shake of her head.
“You know me,” Emmelia argued. “And I know what’s up. I’ll keep the cartel away.” She balled her hand into a fist.
Jacob smiled. “I don’t think you get how serious this is.”
Emmelia’s burst of laughter made Missy jump. “I was born in Juárez. I know.”
Jacob drew back. “Really?”
Emmelia nodded, the smile fading. “I was seven when I left. Let me help you.”
After losing their pug, their adoption effort, and their place to stay, neither Jacob nor Missy had the energy to continue refusing. It seemed like a good idea anyway. Missy nodded, and Jacob said, “Okay. Roommates, then.”
~
Ellie was still in a groggy, lightheaded funk—and ornery, like a crossed skunk in love with its own stink. Everyone was so terribly unhelpful. What had gotten into them all? Not a single soul in the city of Duluth was willing to give her more than a few seconds of their time. She could barely get people to listen to her question, let alone look at pictures of Billy Jack.
Did she really look that bad? She’d forgone her makeup, but so what? She was still donning her custom fedora and elegant handmade summer dresses. You’d think even without her bright-red lipstick and deep-blue eyeliner, people would still find her approachable.
You’d think.
But all day, starting with that weird scene at the coffee shop, she’d been getting the cold shoulder. And now, as she stared over the counter at the animal control officer whose eyebrows curved in an unfortunately naturally condescending arch, she was boiling.
Which was too bad for the young man, a Mr. Brent Jordan, because he was being as courteous and responsive as anyone had been that day.
And what had happened to little Billy Jack wasn’t his fault. And it certainly wasn’t his fault the Duluth Animal Shelter was hidden in a weird industrial segment of the city south of the railyard where visitors always took the wrong turn and went away from the lake (and the shelter) at the 27th Avenue exit. They, like Ellie, always ended up wandering past the Holiday station, Duluth Grill, Motel 6, post office, and everything else under the sun before they finally backtracked and realized they should’ve turned toward the lake. By then they weren’t in the most congenial of moods.
“How is it possible you still haven’t found my Billy Jack? How?” Ellie pressed against the chest-high counter and slapped her fedora atop it. “What’s wrong with you people?” A droplet of spittle landed on the back of Brent’s computer monitor, and she wiped it away.
“Ma’am, trust me, we’ve been looking for your dog since you called us last week.”
“No one’s reported seeing him? He’s purple! And hairless!”
Brent glanced at the screen, clicking the mouse a couple of times. “Well, there’ve been some sightings, yes.”
“Why aren’t you calling me? I want updates.” Another droplet of spittle, another wipe. “I want to know what’s happening. You have no idea how horrifying this has been. I can’t sleep. I need some communication.”
“You want to know what’s been happening?”
“Yes!”
“Well,” Brent said, hesitating for a moment. “Well, okay. He’s bitten three adults and eight children.”
Ellie stepped back from the counter. “Goodness.”
“We’ve responded to every call,” Brent continued, “but your dog’s never there when we arrive.”
Ellie tsked him. “You need to respond faster. Billy Jack’s obviously very scared.”
Brent gave Ellie a quizzical look.
She was sure the notes in his computer suggested Billy Jack was not scared. In fact, it probably said he was dangerous, aggressive, high-strung, and (obviously) prone to biting. They likely were treating Billy Jack as a class-1 public nuisance and danger. Any future calls would be responded to with catchpoles, lassos, and slip leads.
“Ma’am, we’re doing everything we can. We’ve even deployed live traps around the city.”
“Don’t you hurt him.”
“They’re safe. We’ve caught two cats, a raccoon, and four squirrels. All fine.”
“You need to put out more, then.”
“We’ve put out as many as we can. The city council limits it to eight.” Brent clicked the computer mouse. “Actually, though, looks like we lost one.”
“Billy Jack could be in it.”
“No. People, animal lovers, they throw the traps in the trash sometimes.”
Ellie sighed. She was tired. “Call me next time you hear something?”
Brent nodded.
Pulling on her fedora, Ellie turned around and went home. She needed a brief nap before going out and searching for Billy Jack some more. She had to find him. With Billy Jack now biting people, animal control might never hand him over.
Where is that dog?
~
At the Coffee Princess, Jacob and Missy drank cappuccinos (on the house), while Emmelia sorted out a few items in the back. When she was ready to go, Jacob stood and made an announcement.
“I think I’m going to keep looking for Quincy,” he said.
Emmelia crossed her arms. “You really shouldn’t be out. Let’s just go to my house. I’ll even call some friends. They can look for Quincy.”
“That’s nice of you,” Jacob said, “but I don’t want your friends getting involved in this.”
Missy reached up and poked Jacob in the shoulder. “Neither should you.”
“I have to.”
“Remember the last time you had to do something? In Tijuana? You almost died.”
“This isn’t like that,” he argued.
“Exactly. It’s not. We have the police now.”
“What’s wrong with looking?”
Missy stood. “It’s too dangerous. And unnecessary.” She lowered her chin and glanced underneath her brow. “We’re going to Emmelia’s.” Turning to their new roommate, she said, “We’re going to your place. Whenever you’re ready.”
“All right,” Emmelia said. “I’m ready. My car’s out back.”
“We’ll pull around and follow you.” Missy herded Jacob around the table and outside to their hatchback.
Jacob didn’t say another word, but that didn’t mean he was abandoning the idea. Not completely. Not yet. He’d just have to wait until a better opportunity.
They found Emmelia waiting around the corner in the alleyway. Jacob slowed to let her pull out ahead of them.
He said, “I’ve seen that before.”
“Seen what? Her car?” Missy asked.
“It looks so familiar.”
“Because you’ve been here a million times.”
The light-blue CR-V came up to a stop sign. “No, I think it was somewhere else,” Jacob said, studying the license plate. “I’m sure of it.”
“It’s a common car,” Missy said. “Look. There’s another one down that street.”
As they continued through town, Jacob couldn’t shake the sense of déjà vu, but he eventually gave up on trying to jog his memory. He gestured toward a sign that marked the entrance to the College of St. Scholastica. “The Airbnb was going to be around here.”
“Scam,” Missy mumbled.
“Worked out, though, didn’t it?”
Missy nodded as they crossed Arrowhead Road and headed into the woods, where the foliage thickened and drew near the road, partially blocking signs and turning the guardrail into a topiary sculpture. Intermittent mailboxes beside skinny gravel openings indicated the presence of the random home.
“Nice and peaceful. We should’ve come here from the start,” Jacob said. “Just pitched a tent.”
“Like to see you try, mountain man.” Missy asked, “You tell your police friend where we’re going?”
“I will when we get there. Kinda loud for a phone call.” He raised a hand to the wind whipping through his broken window.
Emmelia eased up on the gas at the crest of a hill, then turned down a secondary road that marked the start of some failed subdivision effort. Dozens of forgotten Realtor signs, buried deep in the weeds, touted the once-exciting opportunity to “build your dream home.”
“Why would they make the lots so close together?” Jacob wondered aloud. “Who wants to live right on top of their neighbor out here?”
Missy said, “No one, apparently.”
“Bet it was some idiot developer from New York or someplace.”
“At least he had the sense to leave the trees.”
Jacob pointed down the road to the turnaround where the forest had been stripped bare. “Spoke too soon.” A lone house stood in the middle of the clearing.
“Well, if that’s how Emmelia likes it,” Missy said.
But before the CR-V had reached the road’s end, the vehicle took a sharp right and disappeared up a driveway canopied by the trees.
“More like it.” Jacob followed the hidden incline to Emmelia’s house. “Rugged and rustic, not mowed and manicured. Perfect.”
He reached the top just as Emmelia was pulling into her garage. The second stall had an ATV in it, so he parked just behind the recreational vehicle.
“Decent hiding spot,” Missy said when she stepped out and examined the dense woods. Emmelia’s house, a newly constructed Craftsman, was shrouded in shadow among the pines, birches, elms, and oaks.
Looking down the hill upon which the house sat, Jacob spotted a driveway across the way. As the trees swayed in the wind, they revealed some windows and a small section of a roof. Two neighbors, Jacob noted. Two neighbors and nothing else. Good.
“I like your place,” Missy called to Emmelia as she got out of her SUV.
Jacob did too, but a cloying sense of incompleteness had started to form in his chest. With nothing but the trees and woodland creatures all around them, he realized he didn’t really want to hide. Not anymore. He’d done that and failed. This was just more of the same. What he wanted was to go out, find Quincy, find the sicario, call Breeland, and get things settled.
But Emmelia was waiting inside the garage, and Missy was calling to him as she pulled her suitcase from the back of the Honda, so Jacob pushed that agitating thought aside and went to help with the luggage.
Emmelia said, “I’ve still got work at the café, but I’ll show you the place real quick.”
“Sure,” Missy said. “Go whenever you need. We won’t snoop.”
“Speak for yourself,” Jacob joked, eyeing the garage as he stepped in, both suitcases rolling behind him.
Emmelia gave him a concerned stare, but said nothing. She guided them inside, through a hallway, past a washroom, and into a kitchen lined with pine cabinets and stainless-steel appliances.
“Oh, it’s nice,” Missy said.
Jacob set their luggage against the wall and pointed at the counter where there was a miniature version of the very espresso machine Emmelia had back at her coffee shop.
Missy went to it. “That’s so cute.”
“She’s the Coffee Princess.” Jacob stepped over to the kitchen table, which had a very large pile of medication. He leaned close. Some of the little white tablets were marked “OC,” others “10.” He’d been taking the same OxyContin after that psycho drug dealer had broken his arm earlier in the year. The pain had been terrible, but he’d never been prescribed anywhere near the amount scattered across Emmelia’s table. “You stockpiling? Got a UFC fight coming up?”
“For my back,” Emmelia said. She took a demitasse cup from the top of the espresso machine and showed Missy the tiny Coffee Princess logo.
“Coffee Princess,” Jacob laughed. “More like Painkiller Princess.”
Emmelia didn’t laugh. Neither did Missy.
Jacob let the joke die with a sigh, still staring at the pile. Emmelia was absolutely swimming in pills. The small collection probably had a street value of at least a thousand dollars. A buck a milligram.
It was strange that he’d never once noticed her having an issue with her back. Usually someone struggling with back pain couldn’t help but show it on occasion.
Her veins must be absolutely flowing with Oxy.
Not wanting to make Emmelia feel anymore self-conscious about whatever back problem she had, though, Jacob turned from the table and went to the women near the espresso machine. “Can we make a drink?”
“Sorry,” said Emmelia. “It’s been acting up. The boiler valve keeps getting stuck.” She set the cup atop the machine with the others. “If you stay here long enough, though, maybe it’ll get fixed.”
“All this coffee and Oxy, who’d ever want to leave?” Jacob said, unable to stop himself from trying the joke again.
Emmelia gave a sad smirk. “You know what? If you need a painkiller, princess, help yourself.”
“I just might,” Jacob said, squeezing his shoulder. “Don’t tempt me.”
“And then I’ll get in trouble for distributing a prescription medicine. Thanks.”
“Could you?” he asked.
“Let’s not find out.” She stepped around Jacob and Missy. “Come on. I’ll show you your room.” She led them out of the kitchen and up the stairs to the second floor, where there were two bedrooms (a master and a guest) and a bathroom. “My room has its own bathroom, so this one is all yours.”
“Looks like a five-star hotel,” Missy said.
“Well, I never have guests, so it’s easy to keep it neat and tidy.”
“Thanks again for letting us stay here,” Jacob said as they went back downstairs. He tried to peek into the basement around the base of the steps, but Emmelia closed the door.
“It’s unfinished. Wouldn’t even get a one-star rating,” she said.
“Ping-Pong table or anything?”
“Nope. Nothing.” She crossed her arms. “So what do you think? This work? Feel okay here?”
After a confirmatory glance at Missy, Jacob said, “This works.”
“It’s cozy,” Missy said, smiling. “It’s a really nice home.”
“It’s my sanctuary,” Emmelia admitted. “Let’s me get away from it all and relax. Seemed like the perfect place for you two.”
“Definitely,” Jacob said.
“Okay. Well, I need to get back.” Emmelia rubbed her hands together. “You good? Help yourself to anything in the fridge.”
“We’re good,” Missy said. “Thanks.”
“Of course.” Emmelia turned and left, but not before scooping the pile of Oxy on the kitchen table into a large ziplock bag that she took with her.
When the garage door had closed, Missy and Jacob took a seat in the dining nook between the kitchen and the stairs. They stared out the window at the woods.
“It’s so quiet,” Missy said.
Which wasn’t entirely a good thing for Jacob. He already was fidgeting and bouncing his legs. The solitude, while comforting, was also irritating. Nothing would get done out here.
He pulled out his phone and called Gregory, looking to get an update on Quincy. The connection was garbled, each ring interrupted with sharp static, but in the end, it didn’t matter. The world-renowned super sleuth didn’t answer. Jacob set the phone down. “Just trying Gregory,” he told Missy.
She was studying the trees surrounding the back of the house. “Bet there’s all kinds of animals that come around. Deer, raccoons, foxes.”
“I bet,” Jacob said, then added, “Don’t hate me, but I’m going to go look for Quincy.”
Missy’s head snapped to him.
“I have to.”
“Don’t go out there.”
“But what about Quincy? You don’t want him back?”
Missy lowered her head and glared. “That’s a stupid question.”
He flexed his fingers. “I’ll go crazy if I just sit here.”
“So you’re just going to leave me?”
“You can come with.”
She said, “Emmelia didn’t give us a key.”
“So? We can leave it unlocked.”
“Jacob.” Missy cocked her head. “I’m not leaving her house unlocked.”
“Oh.” He’d forgotten that Missy had grown up in cities like Shanghai, New York, and Chicago, where it’d been ingrained into her subconscious that you didn’t leave anything unlocked, not even a house in the hilly forest outside Duluth where the deer outnumbered the people ten to one.
Planting her elbows on the table, Missy said, “Fine. Go.”
“Really?”
She nodded. “Just be careful.”
“How about this?” Jacob hopped over to his luggage and yanked out a Twins baseball cap. He then popped the collar of his polo. “And I’ll wear sunglasses. You can’t tell it’s me, can you?”
Missy smiled. “You look like a jackass with that collar.”
Jacob took a selfie, then inspected the photo. “Doesn’t look that bad.”
“I guess.”
“I’ll be careful.” Jacob went over and gave her a kiss. “Wish me luck.”
