This story takes place before Triangulation.

1

SHAW CIRCLED BEHIND his desk, keeping the heavy hunk of furniture between him and North.

“I don’t need a vacation.”

North came around the desk, and Shaw circled. Again.

“I’m sleeping fine.”

North kept coming.

Panic scrabbled inside Shaw; he kicked at the chair and sent it rolling on its casters. “I bought some ashwagandha root. I’ll take some tonight. The guy at the apothecary swears by it.”

North kicked the chair out of his way. “Great.”

“Yeah, it is. It’s really great. I’m going to sleep like a baby.”

But North was still coming, and all Shaw could think of was the Terminator. Shaw hot-footed it backward again, stumbling out of the office and into the waiting area.

“You’ll sleep like a baby tonight,” North said.

“Definitely. Definitely.”

“In the hotel.”

“No, I don’t think—”

Shaw stumbled sideways, and then something hit him at the knees, and he fell, hard. Only instead of landing on the floor, he collapsed into a chair that had been pushed under him.

He glanced up at Pari. She smiled.

“Et tu?”

She was still smiling as she shoved the chair, and it wobbled on its casters toward North, who had been waiting for this.

“This is a conspiracy. This isn’t fair. You had this rigged.”

“Bag?” North said.

Pari pointed.

North grabbed the carry-on and dropped it in Shaw’s lap. “Hold that.”

“Don’t. No. Please.” The chair lurched as North dragged it down the hallway. “I’m being taken against my will!”

“You don’t have to sound like such a fucking princess about it,” North said, grunting when they reached the garage and he had to lift the chair down two steps before sending it spinning across the cement slab to roll up against the Mercedes. “Just say you’re being kidnapped.”

2

IT WAS A LITTLE FARM outside of Nashville that operated as a bed and breakfast for hipsters and hippies and housewives who needed a few days’ break. And also, it turned out, for a couple of lousy detectives from St. Louis.

“There are two beds,” North said, which didn’t explain why he kept wanting a mirror, kept wanting to check his own expression. “I don’t see why it’s such a problem.”

“It’s not a problem,” Shaw said, dragging his carry-on to the bed near the window and pulling back a curtain printed with red tractors.

“I swear, I booked two rooms.”

“It’s fine.”

“We shared a room in college. Hell, sometimes we even doubled up in those tiny dorm beds.”