(Monday 18th)

“… California to Oklahoma… Huge Dog, Cat, Turtle, Hippy, Crazy Woman… an Easy Rider Leading the Way.”

Paul wakes first, opening one eye to see Tim to his left; lying in a fetal position on his side, head on the couch armrest, Harry on the floor at their feet. He peeks one-eyed up at the window, seeing light breaking into a new day and lifts his head off the back of the couch. Pain shoots through his neck and temples, but for two very different reasons; one being half a bottle of expensive scotch after all the other drinks at the Blue Turtle Tavern. KC is in the bean bag chair, with George curled up inside her folded arms, and Quinn’s sprawled across the floor.

The small aching man carefully steps over Harry; the German Shephard lifts his head to peer sleepily up at him as Paul makes his way toward the bathroom, passing KC with George now watching him.

Paul returns, and seeing no movement, he goes into the kitchen to make coffee, not knowing if the others drink it, and not caring either. He knows he does and badly needs some.

As the coffee maker does its job, he stands in front of it, waiting like an expectant father left to deliver his own child; cup in hand, Paul swiftly grabs the quarter-filled carafe, filling his cup and quickly places it back to catch the remaining brew. He sits back on the couch, opposite of Tim, and begins sipping his coffee, pondering KC’s idea of them all going to Oklahoma to find answers surrounding Penny’s death. Then his thoughts turn to the woman who died in his hotel room. This woman was someone’s daughter, too; perhaps a sister. The man’s grief for a stranger begins flooding his senses.

Tim stretches his long legs, resting them atop Paul’s knees. The small man looks over; Tim’s eyes are still closed and suddenly pop open at the realization his ankles are draped across someone else’s body.

Paul keeps watching him and is about to take a sip when Tim lifts his head, looking sleepy-eyed down his way, lips pressing together and confusion all over his face. “Morning.”

He lays his head back down, closing his eyes, and mumbles, “Mornin’,” lifting his head once more, “what time is it?”

“Five after seven.”

Tim’s confused expression returns while looking around at KC and Quinn, back at Paul, and then lays his head down, closing his eyes. “What’re you looking so grim about?”

Paul sighs. “I’m thinking about that poor woman who died in my room.”

“Nothing you can do about it, buddy. Let it go.”

“How? How do I do that, Tim? It’s enough that I must deal with death daily… be it some kind of disease or selfish actions of others… but I never could stomach my ER rotations. I never could stomach seeing the things people do to one another… and to have it happen in my hotel room.”

“I’m telling you, Paul, you have to let it go. It will take you down if you don’t. I had to learn that a long time ago. I see it every day in my job too.”

“I’m not built like you, Tim. That poor woman was someone’s daughter… maybe… maybe… sister.”

Tim hears a sniffle. He lifts his head to look down at him and sees his old friend wiping tears from his tired face. He slips his legs off Paul’s knees, putting his big feet on the floor, and sits up, rubs his eyes and turns back to him. “I know, buddy. I do think about those things. But it will eat you alive if you dwell on it.”

He glances over at Tim and away; sniffling once more. “I know. You’re right. Do you want some coffee?”

“I could use some.” Paul goes and comes back with a steamy cup. “Thanks, brother,” carefully taking it. “So… what do you think?” after taking a cautious sip.

“About?”

“Oh, life otherwise, I guess.”

“I don’t know anything about that,” shaking his head. “But I think that crazy idea KC had earlier might work.”

Tim looks over at him, squinting and furrowing his brow. “You do?” Paul nods. “Even after hearing how we were talking about getting there?” Paul nods again. Tim looks at the other two sleeping and takes another sip. “So, when do you think we should go?”

“Just as soon as we can get on the road. We need to wait until I am cleared by the police to leave.” Paul looks down at the cup resting on his leg. “Those are words I never expected to hear me speak.” He looks over at Tim. “Quinn said he has a bus?”

“Yeah. It’s an old church bus. He took out half the seats and made it into like a customized van… only bigger.” He grins. Paul half-smiles. “And don’t worry about being cleared to leave. I’ll talk to them and get it straightened out.” He looks at Tim. “I will, Paul,” brows raised, nodding, “and we can do this. We can finally find out what happened with Penny. I just know it.”

“I hope so.” Paul keeps looking at him. “Are you sure you can take the time off? We don’t know how long this might take.”

“Not a problem. I’m going to call my boss here in a bit, see what I can find out about why he wants me to take some time off, and maybe for how long. We’ll go from there. How about you though? What about your job? And what about Lisa and Amy?”

He turns his head to look at the floor and takes a sip. “I already planned on calling my attending in a few minutes. I’m just waiting for him to get to his office and catch him before making his morning rounds. As far as Lisa and Amy… I don’t know what to think about Lisa. She hasn’t called me all week. The whole time I’ve been gone. I have no idea what is going on with her. The two times I could catch her on the phone... she was cold and distant,” turning to his old friend, “I don’t think she loves me anymore. I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t care if I didn’t come back.”

“Aw, Paulie, you’re wrong. That’s not true.”

Paul nods. “It is, it is, Tim. Has she called me back after I called her yesterday evening? No. There you go. So, yes, aside from what I find out from Dr. Wingate, yes, I can take time off.” He holds Tim’s stare until realizing that as sad as it all sounds, it is—in all reality—true.

Tim’s sleepy-eyed smile fades; along with convincing Paul he’s wrong. He turns his site to the carpet under his big bare feet. “I don’t think there’s anything sadder than love dying between two people.” He peers over at KC balled up in the beanbag chair, watching her sleep, thinking. Remembering Paul, Tim makes a quick glance to his side and away, “It wasn’t her fault. It never is their fault.”

Paul gives Tim a couple of pats on his shoulder. “You’re just not ready, Timmy. You will be one day.” He glances back at Paul and then the floor. “Who knows, it just very well might be KC. She’s still here, right?”

Considering his words, Tim looks over at the little bundle of fireworks once more. “Yeah…” thinking, holding his gaze as she sleeps.

Some time goes by, and he remembers Paul again. Tim quickly turns, puzzled by the strange expression on the small man’s face. Then he isn’t—he knows that expression. “What’re you thinking, buddy?”

“I can’t do this.”

“Can’t do what, Paulie?”

He appears like a nervous chihuahua with unexpected company. “I can’t go to Oklahoma. I mean… I must go back. I just can’t like that—to the way it was—me being what everyone wants me to be and… ’just get on with it’ as they have so aptly put it many times.”

That strikes an old sore nerve with Tim, and his face twists up. “You can’t, Paul!” he whisper-yells, a quick glance at the floor to see if he woke the other two, “don’t you see that?! Now is the time to deal with this head-on. You’ve taken a back seat to all of them far too long as it is!” staring hard into the side of Paul’s head, hoping to reach him. He hasn’t.

It’s now abundantly clear how those wielding control over his old friend have fully cemented their control in the four years of his departure.

Tim never got along with Paul’s parents. They knew he could see right through them. Lisa also knew he saw through her inner motivations. But, he chose to keep it more congenial with her for Paul’s sake. Paul slept with her.

Tim grows angrier reflecting upon the whole dysfunctional scenario. Still, he has to keep it under wraps if he’s to get anywhere with making his old friend change his thinking; to see it from another angle. “Paulie, this might be the only chance you get to find out the answers about Penny. You know you need this,” waiting for him to come around. The man needs more. “If you don’t take this opportunity being afforded you, Paul, you will regret it the rest of your days. You’ll end up a drunk—or a bitter, lonely old man before your time. That’s if you live long enough. I see what it’s doing to you. There’s a raging fire down in the pit of your gut, and you’re lashing out at other people from it.”

Paul’s head snaps to his left at Tim; teeth bared. “You don’t know—”

“I do know. I see it,” Tim sighs heavy and shakes his head, “look… all I’m saying is it’s time to take care of you, Paulie. It’s time to take back your life. If you don’t want to…” shrugging, “well, that’s altogether different. It’s because you choose to keep living the way you are living.”

Tim stands and walks to the kitchen. Paul hears the refrigerator door open as he sits there seething on Tim’s words. He then hears the freezer door open and close, cabinet doors open and close. Tim walks back into the living room and over to his window, pushing the curtains open enough to look out; coffee cup in his right hand, left hand under his t-shirt rubbing his belly. “I need to get something to feed everyone. One wiener and a pack of stale hot dog buns ain’t gonna cut it,” he says flatly, staring outside.

A wet sputter with a surprising chuckle comes from behind him. Tim looks over his shoulder at him.

The small man briefly holds his gaze, sheepishly wiping tears from his cheeks. “All right. I’ll do it.”

Tim has his huge grin back in place in its usual spot. “You will?” Paul nods, looking down at his lap, twisting to sit up straighter.

Tim fast-steps over Quinn’s long legs sprawled across the floor while balancing his coffee. “You’ll be glad you did, buddy,” sitting on the couch next to Paul, “it’s gonna be okay. I think you might even enjoy yourself, Paulie.”

Paul shakes his head. “Yeah, well I didn’t plan on going home this way—California to Oklahoma in an old church bus with a huge dog, cat, turtle, hippy, crazy woman, and an Easy Rider leading the way.” Tim kicks his head back, chuckling.

Bam! Bam! Bam! “LA County Police! Open up!”

Eyes huge, Tim and Paul’s heads jerk upward at the door and then each other. Quinn springs up and hauls it for the bathroom, locking the door.

KC sits up; one eye open and squinting it. “What the…?!”

Tim shushes her while looking at Paul, giving him a reassuring glance and stands, making his way to the door; slowly opening it and peering out. He stands straight up from his guarded stance. “McCoy! What are you doing?! You don’t bring that noise around here this early in the morning, son! Get in here!” Tim looks at Paul, winking and stepping back to allow the laughing detective inside.

“You got to admit it was pretty funny,” McCoy chuckling, now inside.

“Not that funny,” KC informs, picking up a pillow and hurling it at the laughing detective’s chest, “idiot.”

“Aw! It was, too! What’s wrong, darlin’? Did I disturb your beauty sleep?”

“Shuddup, Dave,” mumbling, leaning back into the bean bag chair and closing her eyes, “nobody likes you anyways.”

McCoy laughs even louder because he especially loves needling KC. The two have been friends since she first came to California back in the summer of ’65 to go to USC. He was a young rookie cop, had just married and wasn’t so sure of his new bride. KC, part-time bartending at a bar in Pasadena, set him straight about the whole notion in the six months he dropped by the bar for a beer after his shifts. The two maintained their friendship over the years, crossing paths from time to time; both equally surprised Dave ended up in the Culver City detective division a few years later.

KC moved into her apartment after getting her master’s degree at Long Beach in ’71. She introduced Tim to McCoy not long after the Texas implant arrived in Culver City in ’74; the two men hit it right off.

“What brings you by so early, Dave?” Tim asks, shutting the door.

“Have you seen Quinn? I ran into Felix this morning at the coffee shop. He said he had a time settling down his patrons after…” McCoy swings around, looking at still wide-eyed Paul on the couch. “You must be the little hothead who went after him last night.” Paul could easily melt into the couch cushions.

Tim quickly answers, “Yeah, yeah. He’s okay. He’s fine, Quinn’s fine.”

“Well, where is he? Have you seen him?” looking from Tim to KC; now sitting up and honestly does not know.

The toilet flushes, bathroom door opens, and Quinn walks out.

“Yeah, Dave, he came home with us,” KC offers, looking up from the floor at Quinn as he passes by her; the tall, long-haired musician glancing down at her. Quinn stops in the middle of the room, pushes his hair behind his ears, places his hands at the small of his back, nodding at McCoy with a small smile. “See?”

“Okay, okay. I just wanted to check on him. He wasn’t on his bus, and his VW bus wasn’t there.”

“Some detective you are, dork,” KC scoffs, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. “It’s parked outside.”

“Easy, K,” Tim admonishes.

“Shuddup.”

“You shuddup.”

“Alright, alright,” McCoy, hands raised, “I didn’t mean to cause another lover’s spat over it.”

KC scoffs again, getting up. “Ain’t no lovers here,” scratching her lower back, eyeing Tim still standing by the door as she walks to the kitchen. Embarrassed, he looks over at the other three men and smiles.

McCoy looks at Quinn and then Paul. “So you got it worked out between you fellas, did you?” The two men glance at each other and back at him; both nodding, foreheads furrowed. KC returns with her steamy cup of black coffee in both hands, standing between the kitchen and living room; sipping, looking around at the others. “Good, good.” McCoy walks toward Tim and the door. “Oh, I just realized,” stopping, swinging sideways and looking at Paul who’s barely starting to breathe once more. “You’re the fella with the room at the Hilton where that young lady was killed.” Paul stops breathing again, looking like a deer caught in headlights. The detective sees the small man is about to pass out. So do the others as they quietly watch the scene play out.

Tim steps in to help Paul. “Yea, Dave, I went over there and talked with the officers—Jenner and Terry. Surely they told you I did. They let me bring him back here to stay with me.”

“Yeah, yeah, they did. Well, Jenner did. You know Terry hates you.” Tim nods. “But, not all of us do, Tim. You know you did us all a favor rooting out that muck in the department. Nobody else had the balls to do it. Any that knew it, that is.”

McCoy pauses to make sure Tim receives his affirmation; knowing how poorly he was treated by some of the officers not so pleased by his expose’ of their comrades.

Remembering Paul in a near puddle on the couch, the detective’s eyes widen, and he turns back to him. “Listen, I didn’t mean to cause you any fright, Dr. Randall. I merely wanted to tell you our initial questioning of the guests close to your room revealed a man seen going into your room with that young woman, and he used a key. That’s why they supposed it was you. But, after further questioning—and showing each of them the Polaroid that Jenner took of you—they all emphatically said the man with the young woman was much taller; easy three-quarters of a foot taller and heavier. All of them offered their thoughts that he didn’t look like a doctor, either. More like a blue-collar worker of some sort. One said he appeared to be a common thug. You clearly look like a doctor…” he smiles, attempting to ease Paul, “or an accountant,” seeing it wasn’t, the detective goes further, “that night clerk must’ve been smoking some good Mary Jane to think that was you.” Paul tries smiling, but it is a pitiful, ugly smile. The detective glances around at the others. “We also learned a set of passkeys went missing a few days ago. The manager hasn’t had the locks changed on the rooms yet.” McCoy sticks his hands in his suit pocket; mostly out of habit when discussing a case, “besides, after speaking with your boss, Dr. Wingate at the Baptist hospital in OKC, well, he pretty much dispelled any doubts about you.”

Paul finally says something and with good reason. “You spoke with my attending?” appearing more concerned.

McCoy studies him briefly and smiles, nodding. “It’s okay. Actually, he’s quite fond of you, Dr. Randall. He said you’ve never given him pause for thought in taking care of his patients, that you’re sure a fine doctor, and extremely attentive to detail. So, you can relax, Dr. Randall. You are no longer a suspect,” the detective looks around at the others listening and back at Paul, “one more thing. Any of us who know Tim Calloway knows he would not risk his name and reputation covering for someone he thought guilty of a crime such as this. Let alone any crime.” McCoy turns and heads toward the door, smiling at Tim still standing by it, giving him a wink.

“Detect—” Paul’s voice cracks. It was enough to get everyone’s attention. He clears his throat while glancing around the room, stopping on McCoy, slowly stands, straightening his t-shirt and jeans. “Detective McCoy, if I may… I would like to know about the young woman. How old was she and... w—was she from here or… where was she from?” Paul looks at the floor. “Did she have a family? Wh—what was… what was her name?”

The sincerity in Paul’s voice, the questions he asked and how he asked them, touch the seasoned lawman. Dave McCoy has met all kinds, knowing too, when the real ones come along. And it is visible upon his face and countenance. He gives a small nod, his lips pressing together. “Her name was Carrie, Dr. Randall. Carrie Blanton. She was sixteen, and she had run away from her home in Hope, Arkansas. She’d barely been here two months. I’m very saddened to say it’s an all too common story. I wish it weren’t. But, it is. I have an eleven-year-old daughter at home whom I adore. I think of her every time this happens.” The two men share a momentary remorseful gaze.

Paul gives a single nod. “I understand. I have a baby girl at home, too. I see more at the hospital than I think I can take anymore.”

“It doesn’t get any easier I’m afraid, doctor. But, you know this. You take care of yourself.”

“Yes, sir. You as well.”

McCoy turns back around and heads for the door once again. Tim sticks his hand out, and the detective takes it. “We sure appreciate you, Dave.”

“Yeah, hon,” KC says, stepping over, “lean down.” McCoy smiles and obeys as she kisses him on his cheek. “Thank you. For checking on Quinn and letting Paul know about all that. You’re a sweetie.”

“Don’t you let that get around,” he says winking. “It took years to build this façade.”

“So, Dave, is Paul free to head back home to Oklahoma then?” Tim quizzes.

The detective looks back at Paul, kicking it around a bit and says, “I’m going to say I see no reason why not. It’s clear he is not the one. We’ll catch the perpetrator soon. You may have to come back for his trial, though, as a witness to your being the one with the room registered in your name.” Paul nods. “No, I don’t see any reason why not… except the weather’s better here. We don’t have tornadoes.” He winks at Paul; Paul nervously smiles back.

“No,” Tim agrees grinning, putting his hand on McCoy’s shoulder while opening the door for him, “just earthquakes.”

“There is that. I’ll see you later, Tim,” he says over his shoulder. “KC, Quinn… we need to do a cookout again soon. Drink some beers and Quinn can play us some tunes.”

“We’ll do it, Dave,” Tim says, “hey, what about Paul’s things? When can he get his suitcase?”

“I’ll call you and let you know.”

“Good. The boy’s starting to stink. And he’s a lil’ feller. He can’t wear my man-sized clothes,” Tim says, grinning, “He’s already wearing KC’s.”

“Hey!” Paul protests.

“Oh, good lord,” KC says, rolling her eyes.

McCoy shakes his head, waving his right hand. “I’m staying clear of this.”

“That’s best, bud,” Tim chuckles. “Thanks again for everything. See you soon, brother.”

KC yells, “Bye, Dave!” Quinn waves.

Tim shuts the door. “Whew!” leaning on it, looking around at the others.

Quinn shakes his head and smiles; sits down on the floor.

Tim looks at him. “So why did you hightail it to the bathroom when you heard it was the cops at the door? Did you really have to use it that badly?” Quinn nods. Tim and KC laugh, Paul even chuckles.

“So, we goin’?” KC asks, looking at Paul and then Tim. “We goin’ to Oklahoma?” Paul nods, as does Tim. She lifts both arms. “Whoo-hoo! Road trip!” and starts hopping foot-to-foot, looks at Quinn and stops. “You’re goin’, too. Right Quinnie?” He hesitates and slowly nods. KC frowns. “What’s that about? That didn’t appear too energetic about the idea.” He shrugs and grins. She plops down next to him, wrapping her arms around him, taking him flat on his back and tickling him. The man starts laughing loudly. “We’re gonna have fun!”

Tim’s grins at the happy sight and sits on the couch next to Paul, seeing him smile as he watches the two on the floor. And then he turns to his left at Tim; his smile dims a little.

“You okay, buddy?” Tim reaches over and pats his left arm.

Paul nods. “Do you think it’s really okay? Like Detective McCoy said... do you think I’m no longer a suspect and I’m free to go?”

“Well, Dave McCoy’s a great friend. But, he’s a cop’s cop, too. Straight as they come. And because of it, he carries much weight with the brass and community. He wouldn’tve said it if it weren’t so, Paulie. I’ve never seen him stick his neck out if he couldn’t cover it.”

“He seems to be a fine man.” Paul is still distraught over a certain revelation from the conversation. “I don’t know about him speaking with my attending. I’ll have to give that some more thought.”

“What’s to think about, Paulie? You heard for yourself the glowing report he gave the police. You’re trying to find things to worry about.”

“But what if everyone else at the hospital finds out I was mixed up in the death of a teenage girl?” His eyes widen, “Even worse: what if Lisa finds out?! And my parents?!”

“Paul, Paul, relax! It’ll be okay. Is he the type to run his mouth off?”

Paul stares at him, thinking. “No… I don’t… I don’t really know. I don’t believe so.”

Tim grins his big grin. “Relax, buddy. It’s going to be okay.”

“I’m hungry,” KC announces, and all look her way. “You need to feed me, mister,” looking at Tim.

“I don’t have any food, K.”

“I do. Go get it, bring it over here, and fix our breakfast.”

“Yes, ma’am,” grins and standing up. Tim grabs his keys off the bar and goes next door to KC’s

“He has keys to your apartment?” Paul asks curiously.

KC nods. “I have keys to his place. We take care of each other. That’s how it should be. Don’tcha think?”

Paul smiles and nods. “I do.”

Tim empties KC’s refrigerator; loading it into her laundry basket and bringing it back to his place. He cooks up a huge breakfast, and the four eat while talking over their plans of going to Oklahoma.

“Paulie,” Tim begins, forking a healthy portion of eggs and picking up another slice of bacon from his plate, “you’re never going to believe what Quinn’s bus looks like.”

Swallowing a sip of coffee and setting his cup down, Paul peers over at Tim. “Oh? What does it look like?” glancing over at Quinn, and then at KC trying not to choke on her last bite.

She manages to swallow it and laughs loud. “It’s no Partridge Family bus, Paul! That’s for sure!”

“What?” looking back and forth at the three as Tim and KC laugh and Quinn peers up, sheepish. “Is it painted up with guitars and amplifiers? Peace signs? What?”

“Well, you’re half right, darlin’,” KC giggles. “It’s all painted up with peace signs, paisley, and pot leaves,” picking up her cup, thinking, “it’s kinda pretty actually.”

“What?!” Paul gawks back and forth at the three. “I can’t ride back to Oklahoma in a bus painted up with marijuana leaves!”

“Oh, relax,” Tim says. “It’s no big deal. It hasn’t caused Quinn any problems. Has it, Quinn?” The silent musician shakes his head as he takes a bite of eggs. “See there. It’ll be okay, buddy. You need to learn how to relax. I think this trip will be just the thing to help you do that.” Tim winks at him, picking up his cup. Paul shakes his head and scoffs.

“I need to get the oil changed and clean it out before we go,” Quinn replies, putting some grape jelly on his biscuit already slathered in melted butter. The three look over at him in surprise. “Well… I do,” taking a bite.

They continue talking over the logistics of the trip: money (KC declares she is funding it while Paul insists he is paying his own way), supplies, and when they plan on leaving. Paul wonders aloud about the wisdom of taking Harry, George, and Benny. Both KC and Tim set him straight right quick that it will happen.

Quinn finishes his breakfast and takes off, saying he needs to go ready the bus. Tim and KC tell him to be prepared to leave the next morning. He nods and walks out.

KC stands, picks up hers and Quinn’s plates, heading for the kitchen when the phone rings. She sets the dishes on the bar and answers. “Hello? Yes, just a second,” turning to Tim. “Hon, it’s your boss.”

A sudden frown comes over Tim’s face as he swallows the last from his coffee cup. He jumps up and heads for his bedroom. “I’ll take it in here.” A few long strides later and, “I got it,” with the bedroom door closing. KC hangs up the receiver, picks up the plates once more, and goes on to the kitchen. Paul follows her with his dishes. The two work together cleaning up from breakfast while Tim is on his call. And he’s on the phone a while; long enough for them to complete their task and return to the living room where he finds them after hanging up.

“Everything okay?” Paul asks, looking up as he passes and sits on the couch opposite him; Harry between them, taking up the middle. Tim’s visibly distracted. Paul exchanges a glance with KC over in the bean bag chair.

“Hon? You okay?” she queries.

“Uh… yeah,” still appearing peculiar, peering down at the avocado green shag carpeting. “I just found out why he needs me to take some time off. He said he couldn’t go into it further when he called yesterday because someone was in his office,” Tim pets Harry, the German Shepard’s head laying across Tim’s right thigh. The other two waits for him to finish what he started telling them.

“Hon?” KC says, reminding him they are still there.

Startled, Tim looks up at her. “Yeah?” Staring briefly at her and then glancing over at Paul; suddenly remembering he hasn’t finished. “Yeah, he, uh,… he told me my visit out at the restaurant on the coast yesterday wasn’t a wise move. Said he got wind that the owner was strong-armed into going in with some group. My boss was warned by some top dogs in the local government to keep me away, or else I would wind up hurt.”

“What?!” KC and Paul in unison.

Tim nods. “Yeah. I don’t know how it got to that point, though…” his words trail, as do his thoughts. KC and Paul exchange worried glimpses.

KC grows angry. “Tim, what have you gotten into now?”

“Nothing! I don’t know!”

“Well,” Paul begins, calmer, “what was it again you were working on concerning that restaurant owner?”

Tim turns to Paul, still frowning. “That’s just it. It was only about the real estate out there along Pacific Coast… just about the beachfront properties… some people are selling for pretty good sums, and others are hanging onto theirs. There’s been talk of investors interested in the properties around Santa Monica as of late. That’s all. Hardly any reason to rough up a guy reporting on it.”

“On the surface, no,” Paul eyes him. “Is that all he said?” Tim’s looking down at Harry, stroking his ears. George saunters over, jumps up on Tim’s left thigh and faces him, eye level. Tim smiles and pets his head with his left hand, oblivious to the other two still staring at him in wonder.

“Tim!” KC’s now perturbed. “Is that all he said?!” He glances over at her, agitated, and nodding. “Then what’s this ‘you would wind up hurt’ crap?!” Tim shrugs, looking back at George, smiling. “Creep.” She stands and goes to the kitchen, coming back with three beers; handing one each to the other two, sits down, opens hers and takes a drink.

Flabbergasted Paul looks back and forth at the two of them. “So is that it?”

KC, licking her lips, looks over at Paul. “Well, yeah. That’s how he is, Paul. Did you forget?”

Paul keeps looking at her as she stares at the door, taking another drink. He looks over at Tim who’s completely tuning them out and petting on his boys. Paul shakes his head, opens his beer and takes a drink.

“I’ll say this,” KC points her finger from the hand holding the can, looking straight at Tim, “It’s a good time for you to be gettin’ your tail out of this area for a while.” He goes on ignoring her for a few minutes and then opens his beer, taking a long drink as the two stares at him—both silently guessing it to be half the can—and then sets it down on the table to his left, going back to petting on his boys.

The three drink their beers in silence; KC and Paul occasionally catch one another sneaking glimpses Tim’s way and smiling. After finishing hers, KC announces she’s going to her apartment to hug on Benny some and take a shower.

Detective McCoy calls to say they are releasing Paul’s belongings, so Tim takes him to retrieve them. Tim’s uncharacteristically quiet for most of the trip to the Hilton and back; seldom sharing small talk. Once they return, he tells Paul he can take a shower, and that he’ll take one after him; that they need to be getting things together for their trip.

KC stays at her apartment most of the day, getting her things together. Later, in the evening, she goes back over to Tim’s. He grills some steaks she brought from the freezer she laid out to thaw earlier. They eat, drink some beers, share some talk about the trip and then settle in for the evening. Nothing else is said of the conversation following Tim’s boss’s call to him that morning.

Next Chapter: Chapter Four