“Nothing.”
“Does this have anything to do with Mrs. Jolly stopping by earlier?”
“Yes, but I’d rather you not say anything about it to Graham.”
She sensed Cathy’s disapproval through the ensuing silence. “He wants to say hi.”
“Put him on.”
“Hey, Mom, when’re you coming home?”
“Soon. Wait up for me.”
* * *
“What the—”
Dillon swerved to avoid hitting the dog. Loner had darted out from the ditch along the highway and ran across the road directly in the pickup’s path. Dillon slammed on his brakes, laying rubber for several yards.
“You stupid mutt!” he shouted through the window.
Hearing the familiar voice, Loner skidded to a halt on the pavement. He cocked his head and looked at the pickup, then charged toward it in a frenzy of glee. Dillon opened the drivers-side door. Loner leaped into his lap, licking his face and thumping the steering wheel with his wagging tail.
“Dumb dog, get off me. Jesus, you stink. When’s the last time you had a bath?” He shoved Loner off his lap and dropped the car into gear again. Once they were under way, he cast the animal a sidelong glance. Loner was giving him a lovesick look. His tongue was lolling from one side of his mouth. He was panting hard.
“I’ve told you a thousand times not to love me, but you just don’t listen, do you?”
Dillon admitted that it was nice to be welcomed home after a twelve-day absence, even if the only one to have missed him was a mongrel with no more brains than to run across the road in front of a two-ton pickup. In spite of himself, he’d grown attached to the dog. He watched for him when he wasn’t lurking around the trailer and worried about him until he showed up again.
He scratched the animal behind his left ear. “Where were you off to? Or were you on your way home? Were you out to see a lady?” Loner stopped panting and raised his eyebrows. “Oh yeah? Did you get any?” Loner whined. Ruefully, Dillon said, “I know the feeling.”
He draped is left wrist over the steering wheel and continued patting Loner with his right hand. At this time of night there was little traffic. It was mindless driving, which was good, because Dillon’s mind wasn’t on driving.
He had missed her.
He had cut his trip two days short. Unnecessarily, he had driven for six hours to get home tonight when tomorrow by noon would have done just as well. And since when had he started thinking of this place—or any place—as home?
Since there was someone here he was eager to see.
That had scared the hell out of him—scared him so badly that he had almost talked himself into abandoning the TexTile pickup in Knoxville and simply disappearing again. He hadn’t wrestled with the notion for long, however.
“For one thing,” he said to the attentive Loner, “walking away from problems like that is a cowardly way to deal with them.”
What purpose had it served for him to drop out of society when Debra died? It had temporarily anesthetized him, enabling him to continue living when he had been absolutely indifferent to life. Following his discovery of the bodies, his only reason for living was to give Haskell Scanlan pain. Having done that, he hadn’t cared if he ever drew another breath.
But some motivating factor had kept him alive. Like a computer chip, something minute but active, buried deep inside his consciousness, had seen to it that he went on living. Now, he knew why. TexTile. He was meant to build this plant. He believed that with every fiber of his being.
“So, I’ve got to complete it. I’ve got to prove to myself that I can stick it out to the bitter end. Understand?” Loner whined and dropped his head onto Dillon’s thigh. “Yeah, I know. Life’s a bitch.”
He hadn’t wanted to grow attached to the dog, yet here he was with a lump in his throat because the stupid mutt was glad to have him home. He hadn’t wanted to like the boy, either, but Graham was exactly the kind of kid he would have wanted Charlie to be. He was inquisitive, bright, friendly, and was just mischievous enough to keep him from being a nerd.
“How’s Graham been doing?” he asked Loner. “Seen him around much? Maybe next time I go out of town for any length of time, I’ll ask him to give you your weekly bath.” Loner flopped his tail from one side of his rump to the other in half-hearted approval of the idea. He wasn’t crazy about baths. “I could offer to give him a few bucks. Boys his age always need spending money.”
Before he left, Jade had apologized for Graham’s hanging around the site. She thought the boy had made a nuisance of himself by getting in Dillon’s way and asking questions. Actually, he was flattered whenever Graham tagged along beside him. His questions and observations were sometimes humorous, other times astute. In spite of himself, he looked forward to seeing Graham again.
He had avoided thinking about it during the six-hour drive, but now, when he was only a few minutes away
from his destination, he felt compelled to acknowledge the real reason for his rush to get back: he was eager to see Jade.