Part 7 (1/2)
”Fine.”
”Good.”
”And now that's settled, I'm going to bed.” Austin stepped from the table to Claire's lap to the floor, glaring at Dean on the way by. ”These days, if I don't stake my claim early, all the good spots are taken.”
”We'll be there in a few minutes,” Claire told him, her tone very nearly making the words a warning.
”Oh, joy.” He stopped, one paw in the hall, and glanced back over an immaculate black shoulder. ”Don't forget to pack the cat food.”
”And thus we have the subt.i.tle for my life,” Claire sighed, getting to her feet. ”When you left to answer this Summons, did you tell Mom and Dad where you were heading?”
”They weren't home. I left them a note.”
”You should call before you go to bed.”
”Yeah. Right.” Picking up her sandwich plate, Diana headed for the kitchen only to be stopped by Dean's outstretched hand.
”I've got it.”
”I was just going to put it in the dishwasher. Claire said business was good enough that you guys bought a dishwasher.”
”We did.”
”So?”
The blue eyes behind the gla.s.ses met hers without apology. ”I like to load it.”
”He has a system,” Claire put in.
”Whatever.” Diana handed over the plate and watched Dean walk into the kitchen. ”He's just a little obsessive,” she murmured as Claire moved up beside her.
”A little . . .”
The faded jeans stretched tight as he bent over to set the plate in the lower rack.
”. . . but there are compensations.”
”Oh, yeah. I can tell you're with him for his mind.” Grabbing her backpack, she headed for the hall. ”So, in the interest of being rested and prepared, I'm going to grab the key to room one and crash. Come on, Sam.”
Eyes still on Dean, Claire waved absently toward her sister. ”Call home.”
”Bite me.”
Accelerating to make the end of the advance green, Dean cranked his truck hard to the left and roared up into the mall's parking lot. Just after nine a.m. the temperature had already climbed past thirty degrees C; unusually hot for the end of June. Three adults and two cats didn't leave a lot of room for air flow in the cab and exposed skin would have been covered in a glistening layer of sweat had not the fine patina of cat hair caught, and dimmed, the glisten.
”That's the entrance by the food court,” Diana declared, pointing out the open window. ”Turn here.”
Dean turned.
”If it's the closest entrance to the Emporium, it'll be the most watched and therefore the most likely to be guarded,” Claire argued, holding her skirt up off the damp skin of her legs with two fingers. ”Turn back onto the roadway and head for the door Diana used last night. We know we can get through that one.”