There was no one around, but I stayed alert as I unlocked my car with the remote.
“Shotgun!” Theo sang out, and I shook my head, grinning. I didn’t have to worry about coming across as besotted. My expression was hidden by the darkness of the garage.
I got behind the wheel, and Theo slid in beside me, his hand splayed out on the seat, almost inviting me to touch.
I didn’t, of course. My Dad had taught me to always keep both hands on the wheel.
And there was Spike in the back seat. Through the rearview mirror I could see him fussing with his seatbelt, adjusting and readjusting it, glancing out the window, and finally staring pointedly back into the mirror.
“Are we going?”
“Yeah.” I turned on the ignition and put the Dodge in gear.3
Theo gave me the directions, and within twenty minutes we were in front of what looked like an antebellum mansion. If I’d passed it in the normal course of the day, I’d have taken it for a museum.