Chapter 89

Tom Alan caught up. “I parked in spot A-69.”

A look was exchanged. A head shake, but with a smile. “You do that on purpose, mate? Subliminal message?”

Tom Alan’s face remained innocent. “Closest one open. Fate, maybe?”

Milo shook his head again, the hair rustled against the collar of his coat. Tom Alan got a chill—not from the cold.

He tossed Milo’s bags in the back of Irina Mischen’s old brown van and climbed into the front. “Sit next to me.” The front had a bench seat. “It’s a long ride. You can rest your head on my shoulder. Sleep. At least rest. You look tired.”

Milo obliged after a moment’s hesitation, buckling himself in the middle. “Hear from Benny?” he asked.