Hot Rocks

one.
    She’d made a good life. Not what he’d wanted for her, certainly, but if it was what she wanted, he’d accept that. He didn’t understand it, and never would, but he’d accept.
    She was never going to come back with him on the road. That fantasy had finally been put to rest after a good look at her house, her shop, her life.
    A waste of considerable talent, to his way of thinking, but he understood a father couldn’t push an offspring into a mold. Hadn’t he rebelled against his own? It was natural enough for Laine to rebel and to seek her own path.
    But it wasn’t natural for her to try to scam her own blood. She had the diamonds. Had to have them. If she had some sort of twisted idea that she needed to hold out on him to protect him, he’d have to set her straight.
    Time for a father-daughter chat, Jack decided.
    It meant he’d have to boost a car. He really hated to steal cars, it was so common, but a man needed transportation when his daughter decided to live in the boondocks.
    He’d drive out to see her, have that chat, get the diamonds and be gone by morning.
     
     
     
    He settled on a Chevy Cavalier—a nice, steady ride— and took the precaution of switching its plates with a Ford Taurus a few miles away. All things being equal, the Chevy should get him through Virginia and into North Carolina, where he had an associate who could turn it for him. With the cash, he could spring for a new ride.
    He’d leave enough footprints for Crew to follow, just enough of a scent to draw the man away from Maryland and Laine.
    Then Jack had an appointment in southern California, where he’d turn those sparkly stones into hard green cash.
    After that, the world was his fricking oyster.
    He was humming along to the classic rock station he’d found, his mood lifted by The Beatles’ cheerful claim of getting by with a little help from friends.
    Jack knew all about getting by.
    As a precaution, he stopped the car halfway up the lane. The dog was the friendly sort when it wasn’t wetting itself in fear, he recalled, but dogs barked. No point in setting it off until he scoped things out.
    With his penlight, he started the hike. The dark was pitch, making him wonder again what had possessed Laine to choose such a place. The only sound he heard other than his own feet crunching on gravel was an owl, and the occasional rustle in the brush.
    Why anyone would want brush anything could rustle in was beyond him.
    Then he caught the scent of lilacs and smiled. That was a nice sort of thing, he thought. To walk along in the quiet dark and smell flowers. Nice, he added, for the occasional change of pace. Maybe he’d pick a few of the blooms, take them with him to the door. A kind of peace offering.
    He started to follow his nose when his light hit chrome.
    And scanning the beam over the car, Jack felt his mood plummet.
    The insurance cop’s car was at the end of the drive with Laine’s.
    Eyes narrowed, he studied the house. No lights glowed in the windows. It was near two in the morning. A man’s car was parked in front of his daughter’s house.
    His little girl was . . . he searched for a word his father’s mind could handle without imploding. Dallying. His little girl was dallying with a cop. To Jack’s mind a private investigator was just a cop with a higher annual income than the ones who carried badges.
    His own flesh and blood, with a cop. Where had he gone wrong?
    With a huge sigh, he stared down at his feet. He couldn’t risk breaking in a second time with the PI in there. He needed privacy, damnit, to talk some sense into his Lainie.
    Cop had to leave sometime, Jack reminded himself. He’d find a place to stash the car, and wait.
     
     
     
    It was a testament to her love, Laine concluded, that nudged her into altering her morning routine in order to see Max off at five forty-five A.M. She liked to think it also demonstrated she was flexible, but she knew better.
    Her routine would snap right back into place once she and Max became more accustomed to each other. It might take on a slightly different form, but in the end, it would be routine.
    She was looking forward to it and, thinking just that, gave him a very enthusiastic kiss at the door.
    “If that’s the goodbye I get when I’m only going to be gone a day, what do I have to look forward to if I have to be out of town overnight?”
    “I was just realizing how nice it’s going to be to get used to you, to take you for granted, to have