It was 1:30am when Val and Gwen arrived home. Val struggled to get through the door. Tired or hungry. Bed or food? Which would win?

“Do you think Jack is still up?” Gwen asked, following Val in. A colleague of theirs, Jack Styles, a Brit who now lived in Boston, had arrived in Buffalo that afternoon, luckily just before the winter storm, which had now tapered off to minor flurries. Val told him the spare key was under the doormat, and to let himself in.

Jack’s reaction hadn’t surprised Val. “Key under the mat. What are you thinking?” He was recalling her last mishap with the person who caused the injuries to her leg, nearly taking her life in the process. Jack had worked that case with Val and though she referred to him as her colleague, he had grown on her to become a friend as well.

She had responded with, “Jack, if I didn’t leave the damn key under the mat, you’d have to wait outside until I came home.”

There had been no retort. From Jack? Maybe the snowstorm, and the need for warm shelter had created a well-won touché.

“If he is,” Val said to Gwen, “I’m sure he’ll hear us and come downstairs if he’s up for socializing.”

If Val’s occupation dealt with death and the occasional depravity, Jack’s focussed more on depravity. He and his partner, Thomas Hayden, worked as private detectives. All their cases were high-profile, media-worthy events. True crime TV and radio shows regularly featured them. The more heinous and more hopeless for the defendant, the better. That’s how the TV stations liked it—for ratings, of course.

When Jack called and said he wanted to come to Buffalo to see her she jumped at the opportunity, though at that time, no death investigations were on the planned excursions. She couldn’t wait to tell him about the latest that just landed in her lap. Val opened the refrigerator door and pulled out leftovers from last night’s dinner: Mexican food, which she had made herself: chicken enchiladas, refried beans, salsa, cheese. She grabbed it all. It was official. She was ravenous. Val also pulled out a carton of sour cream. Yes, sour cream was definitely needed, too. “Do you want any of this?” she said, her focus still on the contents in the fridge.

“I’d love some,” Jack answered.

Val heard the familiar British accent and quickly turned around. Gwen turned too. Val set the food down and ran towards Jack, giving him a huge hug. “Oh my God, I’m so glad you’re here.” This was the first time she’d seen him since their last case together.