Page 76 of Long Gone

He lifted his brow, looking amused.

“Which means you’re going to need a shower and clean clothes too.”

He made a face. “Then we need to stop by the tavern before we head to your place.”

“Done.”

I took the back roads to the tavern and parked behind the building. When he reached for the door handle, I started to get out with him, but he shot me a look. “No need to come in. I’m just grabbing a change of clothes.”

“I thought you were showering.”

“Not here,” he scoffed. Then he got out and shut the door.

Which meant he planned on showering at my place.

Great.

I wasn’t sure why that bothered me so much. Perhaps because my apartment was barely bigger than a shoebox, and his large body and ego were going to take up all the space. My space. And, fine, there was no denying that the idea of James Malcolm naked in my shower did funny things to my insides.

I didn’t like where my thoughts were going with that image, so I shut it down quickly. We were both adults, not giggling teenagers. I could deal with it, and he’d made it clear on multiple occasions that he wasn’t interested in what was underneath my clothes.

He was back outside within a few minutes, minus the jacket he’d been wearing and only in his thermal shirt and jeans. He was carrying a small duffel bag, which I presumed held his new clothes. It stood to reason he kept clothes at the tavern. He’d admitted he practically lived there.

After he got back, I pulled out of the parking lot, both of us silent. I had no idea what he was thinking, but I realized that I’d likely lost my opportunity to see whatever he’d pulled out of Hugo Burton’s grave. For all I knew, he’d left it at his office.

Great.

When I pulled into my mother’s driveway, I turned to Malcolm and said, “There’s a chance my mother will come out when she sees you. Whatever you do, do not engage.”

He grinned. “That’s right, you still live with your mommy.”

“Not for much longer,” I said. “I’m about to start looking for my own place.” I opened my door and got out.

Malcolm followed suit, casting a glance at my mother’s back door, probably eager to jump into conversation with her, but the door remained closed. I was slightly worried—I hadn’t seen her for days, which wasn’t like her at all. But I wasn’t worried enough to actually knock on the back door to check on her. She was probably peering through the blinds, pissed that I’d had the audacity to bring a man to my apartment, which had been expressly forbidden.

I led the way up the wooden stairs to my front door, opened it with the key, and walked inside, letting Malcolm follow me in.

The place instantly reeked of rotten flesh, making me gag. “How about you shower in here, and I’ll take a bullet and shower in my mother’s house?” I suggested, but in truth, it had been much worse in the car. It was the thought of a naked Malcolm less than twenty feet from me that had me running.

“Is she really that bad?” he asked with a smirk.

“Worse. And if she somehow missed you walking up the stairs—which is hard to believe—she’s going to have lots of questions about why I’m showering in her house and not my own, an answer I still haven’t worked out.”

“Works for me.”

“There’s shower gel and shampoo and conditioner in the shower.”

“Am I going to come out smelling like a flower?”

“If you’re worried about it, you should have brought your own toiletries. But you won’t smell like a flower. There might be a slight scent, but I try to stay away from anything strong. I liked to be scent neutral on crime scenes.”

I walked out, shutting the door behind me, categorizing what I might have left lying around that he could snoop through. My laptop was in there, but it was password protected, and I didn’t have anything else that would interest him. Well, other than the booze under my sink. But there was currently one bottle of Tito’s vodka and my liquor of choice, Jack Daniel’s.

Oh wait. That was probably gone.

Great, he’d find the empty bottle wherever I’d left it this morning.

I couldn’t help wondering if I would have made these questionable decisions if my blood didn’t constantly sport some level of alcohol content.

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