Remember When

about that or we can take the compromise."
    She continued to walk her fingers along his thigh. "I like to fight."
    "Okay." He pushed to his feet as if preparing for the round.
    "But not when I agree with the other person's point of view. It's an unnecessary risk for me to stay out here alone. So I'll impose on Jenny and Vince."
    "Good. Well... good. Want to fight about something else?"
    "Maybe later?"
    "Sure. I'm going to go nail down my flights. Oh, any chance that sofa can be long enough for a guy to take a Sunday afternoon nap on?"
    "That's a distinct possibility."
    "I'm going to like being married to you."
    "Yes, you are."
    ***
    It was after one by the time Jack finished searching Laine's shop. Torn in two directions, he locked up after himself. He was bitterly disappointed not to have found the diamonds. Life would be so much simpler if he had the little dog tucked under his arm. He could be on his way out of town, leaving enough bread crumbs for Crew to follow that would lead him and any trouble away from Laine.
    Then he'd vanish down the rabbit hole. Fourteen million in diamonds-even figuring on half of that due to a quick turnover-would provide a very plush rabbit hole.
    At the same time he was struck with a kind of stupefied pride. Just look what his little girl had done, and in the straight world. How the hell had she learned to buy all those things? The furniture, the fancy pieces, the little fussy table sitters. It was a pretty place. His little girl had herself a very pretty business. And since he'd been curious enough to take the time to hack into her computer and check, it appeared she had herself a reasonably profitable 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