Without waiting for a reply, he’s out of the Tahoe and striding toward the office. I watch him, vaguely aware that I’m admiring the way he moves, when it strikes me that I have no idea what kind of sleeping arrangements have been made—or how the night is going to play out. When we’ve worked together in the past, our relationship has never been an issue and we’ve never let it interfere. The investigation always takes precedence. This case is different in that both of us are away from home base, and I can’t help but wonder if it’s going to get in the way.

The door swings open, startling me. Tomasetti slides in, then cranks the engine. Without looking at me, he drives to the farthest cabin and parks. “I’m in cabin twelve. You’re in eleven.”

“So we’re neighbors.” Without looking at him, I reach into the back for my overnight bag.

He stops me. “I’ll get that for you.”

“Sure. Thanks.” I make my exit before I start blabbering and watch as he opens the rear door and pulls out both our overnight bags.

We walk to cabin 11, and he unlocks the door, then passes me the key. The first thing I notice is the bed. It’s a full with a camouflage pattern spread and a headboard made of deer antlers. A night table holds a single lamp, the base of which is constructed of antlers. Camo curtains. Hunting art on the walls—ducks and deer and Labrador retrievers. But the room is neat and smells of clean linens and cedar.

“I believe this is the most antlers I’ve ever seen in one place,” I say.

“Might be a problem if you’re a restless sleeper.”

I laugh. “Better than mounted heads on the walls.”

“Heads are probably in my room.” Chuckling, he sets my bag on the bed, then quickly checks the bathroom. “Coffeemaker in the bathroom,” he tells me when he emerges.

On the small table near the window, a handwritten sign tells me the room is equipped with free Wi-Fi. I see a hookup for a laptop and a pad of paper printed with the motel’s name and logo. “All the comforts of home.”

An awkward silence falls. The rise of tension is palpable. I look at Tomasetti and find his eyes already on me. For the span of a full minute, neither of us speaks, and neither of us looks away.

“So how are we going to do this?” he asks after a moment.

The question needs no clarification. “I don’t know,” I say honestly. “I’m kind of out of my element here.”

“Me, too,” he says. “I’m used to traveling alone.”

“I’m used to you sneaking into my house through the back door in the middle of the night.”

He laughs.