Page 67 of Into the Fire

Tommy kicked back in his Aeron chair, rolling across the slick concrete and disappearing into the shadowy fringe of the lair. A racket ensued—rusty hinges lifting, curse words, something clattering to the floor. The whir of the wheels presaged Tommy’s return. Sure enough, he sailed back into view, Remington rifle across his lap. He lifted it in triumph.

Evan said, “You got it in tan?”

28

Eleventh-Hour Surprise

In the corner of Joey’s apartment, Dog the dog lapped water from a Red Vines tub. Evan sat on the floor and looked him over. The laceration on Dog’s cheek was healing nicely, though the restitched flap of skin on his chest was red and inflamed. Evan smeared some Neosporin over the stitches and then checked the strips of exposed flesh at the muzzle and hind legs where the duct tape had been removed. Healthy white skin, the fur starting to grow back. Dog shoved his wet nose into the hollow of Evan’s neck, and Evan steered the big head away, scratching behind the ears.

Joey’s typing, a white-noise constant since Evan had given her Max’s thumb drive a half hour ago, contributed a pleasing background hum.

“Dog’s doing well,” Evan said.

“You like it so much, you should find a permanent home for it,” Joey said. “Sooner rather than later. We don’t want it getting comfortable.”

“He’s still healing,” Evan said.

“I know. It kept me up whimpering all night.”

“It’s hard work taking care of someone else,” Evan said.

Joey snapped around in her chair to glower at him from her workstation. “What does that mean?”

“Precisely what it sounds like it means.”

“I take care of someone else already.” She was wearing the Hello Kitty–with-an-AK T-shirt again, the sleeves hiked up, showing off her well-defined arms. “You. I have to, like, spoon-feed tutor you when it comes to hacking.”

“I assume you’re unfamiliar with the Dunning-Kruger effect,” Evan said.

“Dunkirk-who?”

“Never mind.” Evan rose and walked to the circular desk, Dog following closely, pressing into the side of his leg. “What did you find?”

“Your boy Petro’s got all the angles.” Dog the dog was whimpering, and Joey paused, annoyed. “Can you get it to be quiet?”

“When’s the last time you took him out?”

“I don’t know.”

“You want him to pee on your floor?”

“Yeah. I’d totally love that.”

“Let’s go.”

She grimaced and then dug beneath her desk and came up with a leash and a black fabric collar with a cutesy skull-and-crossbones motif.

Evan said, “You bought him a collar?”

“Just so it’s easier to take him out. Everything doesn’t have to mean some big thing.”

Evan noted her first use of the masculine pronoun but kept his mouth shut.

When Joey crouched to pull on the collar, Dog licked her cheek. She didn’t smile. But she didn’t protest either.

They rode the elevator down and stood outside, Joey holding the leash while Dog the dog sniffed the grass, moved a few feet, sniffed it again. Lifting his leg, he unleashed a fire-hose stream onto an elm sapling.

“Are you feeding him Big Gulps?” Evan said.