Jimmy pulled the driver’s door closed, sealing the cabin against the cold wet of the winter night. Rex could tell he was in no mood for conversation. For a moment they sat in silence, the van’s headlights illuminating the dead log that lay across the length of the road in front of them.
“Think we should turn around?” Rex’s suggestion was offered more in hope than command.
Jimmy pulled the van into reverse. “‘Spose.”
A tap on the window stopped Jimmy before his foot could pounce on the accelerator. The officer spun his flashlght’s beam into the cabin, blinding the occupants.
Jimmy rolled down the window. “Help you?”
“You making a delivery?”
Jimmy blinked. “No.” He pointed without looking at Rex. “I’m fixing to get this young man home.”
“The owner know you’re using the van?”
Rex could feel Jimmy’s body tighten with tension. “I AM the owner.”
The beam of the officer’s flashlight swerved over to the side of the van, then back into the cabin. “You own Squisito’s Catering?” A hint of sarcastic disbelief.
Jimmy rolled his window down entirely, and laid his left forearm on the door. “Listen here, John Law. I’m just a taxpaying citizen trying to do a good deed. I’m as annoyed as you are ’bout this damn log, and I really don’t have time for no more aggravation.” He put the van back into park. “So why don’t you just get back into your squad car, and get all warmed up, while we wait for that truck.”