On the drive back to Evelyn’s, Jack stopped at a desolate rest area pay phone to try the number Cooper gave us. I sat in the rental car, sipping bitter coffee and watching him at the booth, hunched against the cold night air, his back to me, breath streaming like smoke signals. I rolled down my window, but was too far to overhear him. A night bird squawked. I turned to gaze at the woods surrounding the rest area and thought of home.

When he came back, he was frowning, gaze distant in that way that I’d learned meant I had to be patient.

We were on the highway before he spoke. “Someone answered. Wasn’t him.”

“Cooper gave us the wrong number?” I shook my head before Jack could answer. “No, I guess that’s not very likely. He’d have no reason to keep a false number and if it was in some kind of code, he’d have said so. He didn’t seem to be holding out. So either Baron gave him the wrong number—which doesn’t make sense—or Baron’s changed it.” I glanced over at Jack, reading his expression. “Or none of the above.”

“Was Baron’s number. Just not him.”

I considered venting my frustration in a comment about Jack’s own code, and the mental gymnastics required to crack it, but he didn’t seem in the mood for jibes. He’d gone quiet again, probably thinking about Baron.

“The person who answered, did he seem to know Baron?”

He blinked, then shook it off, glancing over to give me his full attention. “Hard to say. Guy started spitting questions. Who’s calling? What’s this about? Where’d you get that name?”

“And it definitely wasn’t Baron?”

Jack shook his head.

“Is there any way to trace the number?”

“I’ll put Evelyn on it.”

“What? Jack being cheap? Can’t put you up in a motel for the night?” Evelyn said as she stepped back to let us in.

She had her hand on the collar of a muscular German shepherd. When I hesitated, she waved me in. “They’re trained. If I don’t give the signal, they won’t attack.”

I glanced over at the other one, an even bigger shepherd peering back at me from the other side of the hall. “Any chance I might ‘accidentally’ give the signal?”

“Get inside.” Once I was in, she released the first dog’s collar. “This is Ginger. That’s Scotch. Girls? Say hello.”

I stretched out my hand, fingers extended. They snuffled it.

“Now off to bed,” she said.

They turned and headed up the stairs, one behind the other.

I walked into the living room, then stumbled as a sudden cramp from the long drive took my calf muscles hostage. Jack caught my arm, but I waved him off, hopped over to the sofa and collapsed onto it.