Chapter 2

When they got to the street Derek said, “I’m parked over there,” pointing to a lot half a block away.

Joe followed him, hoping he wasn’t making his biggest mistake yet in a life already filled with them.

* * * *

The weather was getting worse as Derek inched his way down the increasingly snow-packed streets. Only an idiot would be out in this. Which would be me, I guess. I should have put off my surveillance after I heard the weather report. Hell, that punk and his friend should have postponed stealing from Mr. Edwards again, but they didn’t.

“You do this a lot?” Joe asked, breaking into Derek’s thoughts.

“What? Staking out a place? When I’m hired to, although…” Derek shook his head. “I try not to do it in a blizzard if I can help it.”

“No. I mean helping guys like me. Giving them a place to stay.”

“Nope. You’re the first one. Mostly I’ll toss a dollar or two in their cup or hat if they look legit. That’s it.”

“Then why me? And don’t say your civic duty because of the weather. That won’t wash.”

Derek sent him an amused look. “Even if it’s the truth?” He slowed down again to make the turn off the main thoroughfare onto the side street that would take him to his house. If I don’t end up sliding into the curb first.

“Is it?” Joe asked. He was leaning forward, obviously trying to soak up the warmth coming from the car’s heater. A definite odor emanated from him—wet clothing that hadn’t been washed anytime recently, body odor, slightly sour breath when he spoke. Something in Derek’s expression must have telegraphed his thoughts, because Joe pulled back into the corner of the seat with a muttered, “Yeah, I don’t smell like a rose.”

“Didn’t expect you to,” Derek replied. “To answer your question, you remind me of someone I couldn’t help. He had the same dark hair, soulful blue eyes, and scrawny build.”

“Scrawny? If he lived on the streets that’s pretty much a given.”

“He did, at the end.”

“A friend?”

“Brother, and let’s drop it, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.”

Derek nodded while he poured every bit of his attention into driving at that point, as the street was almost impassable. If his car hadn’t been an Outback with four-wheel drive they’d have been stranded soon after he made the last turn.

Finally he saw his house, looking dark and lonely in the dim light from the streetlight on the corner of the block. He pulled into the driveway, hit the remote to open the garage door, and took the last few feet at a snail’s pace.

“Home sweet home,” Derek said when the door came down behind them.

“You live in your garage?” Joe asked with a weak smile.

“Thankfully, no. It might be heated, but it lacks certain amenities, like furniture.” Shutting the car off, Derek got out. When Joe didn’t move, he said, “You coming?”

“I thought I was crashing here.” Joe waved a hand to encompass the garage.

“I reconsidered. Don’t argue. I wouldn’t make my dog sleep out here tonight.”

As Joe slid out of the car he said, “You’ve got a dog?” He didn’t look too happy about that.

“Yep. Sherwat. Big old mutt that I rescued from the pound. Part Golden Retriever, part Shepherd, part who knows what. Friendly as can be unless I tell him otherwise.”

“Sher what?”

Derek chuckled as he unlocked the door to let them into the kitchen. “Sherwat. It’s a combo of Sherlock, as in Holmes, and Watson, his sidekick.”

There was a skittering of claws on the linoleum of the kitchen floor as Sherwat dashed in from the living room. He came to an abrupt stop when he saw Joe, cocking his head before looking at Derek.

“He’s a friend, be nice,” Derek said. “Joe, hold out your hand.”

With obvious reluctance, Joe did. The dog approached, sniffed, and then licked it.

“Well, one part of me’s clean, now,” Joe wisecracked as he pulled his hand back.

“Put you gear over there,” Derek said, pointing to a corner of the kitchen next to the fridge. “Then I’ll show you where you can shower.”

“Uh…You don’t have to do that,” Joe replied, putting his things where Derek had said.

“If you’re going to spend the night, I’d rather not have to smell you, to put it succinctly. Come on. Oh, do you have anything clean in your pack.”

Joe stared down at the floor, shaking his head.

“Okay. Let’s start with laundry, then the shower. Get your stuff and follow me.”

Derek opened the door to the garage first. Sherwat dashed out, and through the dog-door in the rear of the garage. Then Derek led the way down to the basement after turning on the light. “Dump everything in the washer except your sleeping bag.” When Joe did, Derek resisted commenting at how few clothes there were. “Wait here. I’ll get a pair of my sweats so you can wash what you’re wearing, too.”

When he returned he found Joe standing barefooted in only his jeans. He handed him the sweats then turned around to give him a modicum of privacy to put them on. He heard rustling, then the sound of the washer door closing. Turning to look, he saw Joe reaching for a bottle of detergent. The young man frowned while he tried to figure out where to pour it. Derek opened the drawer on the front of the washer, telling him a capful would be enough. “And the same with the softener,” he added.