"Why can't they just hold these workshops in town so we don't have to drive three bloody hours there and three bloody hours back?" Detective Inspector Robert Lewis was less than happy about having to be out on the road at six in the morning. The sky was just getting light.

"Don't tell me you're going to be grumpy all day. It would be bad enough to be kept in a small, enclosed space with you for six hours if you were in a good mood." Doctor Laura Hobson's smile betrayed the intentional wind-up. "Besides, Lyme is such a nice place. C'mon, let's make a road trip out of this."

"Aw, I'll be fine once the caffeine kicks in. It did sound like the workshop would be more interesting than the usual 'proper procedure' stuff they feed us."

Laura settled herself in the passenger seat of the car and they started on their way. She had to agree that the program on forensic evidence, for which they had to register as a detective-pathologist team, would likely be rather different from the usual, all-pathologist meetings she attended. "Hmm, yes, coppers and doctors. Should be quite interesting."

Robbie glanced sideways at her, wondering what six hours in a car with her would be like. He preferred to do the driving, and was used things being a certain way—his music, his speed, his refusal to make any stops unless the car was running on fumes or a toilet was absolutely required.

She noticed him observing her. "I hope you don't insist on sparkling conversation while we drive. I brought music." She pulled an mp3 player out of her bag, along with a cassette-like device, which she popped into the car's cassette player, plugging the end of its thin cord into the mp3. She began to thumb the player, peering at the tiny screen.

Robbie rolled his eyes. "Robbie, do you mind if I play some music? Since it's your car, you can pick the songs." He pitched his voice high, pretending to imitate her.

She set her mouth in a line and took a breath before retorting. "Sorry. I'm used to being the only person in the car. I suppose you are, too. Would you rather talk the whole way?"

"No, no. Music is fine. As long as it's age-appropriate." At least his silence wouldn't be considered rude.

She smirked a little. "You mean nothing newer than 1985, no rap, hip-hop, or techno?"

"Exactly. I'm glad we understand each other so well."

If only that were true, she thought, but said nothing. "Did you want to choose the album?"

He thought a moment. I'd like to know what she has on there. "Yeah, but since I can't see the screen while I'm driving, make it the . . . fifteenth album." He appeared to have picked the number arbitrarily.

She snorted. "You're so selective. What if that one's hip-hop?"

He halfway smiled. "I'll take my chances. I'm betting the odds are in my favor."

She cued it up and Elton John's voice came through the speakers. Robbie pursed his lips a moment, as if he was going to say something, but he remained silent.

A few minutes later, the song changed.

"Don't you know I'm still standing better than I ever did
Looking like a true survivor, feeling like a little kid . . ."

Laura furrowed her brow, her exhale was drawn out, long and tense. Robbie glanced over in concern. "Something wrong?"

She didn't answer right away, but turned to study him a bit, as if checking to ensure he could be trusted with her answer.

"Do you ever have those moments when something happens in your life and you realize the music playing somewhere in the background fits perfectly, like it's part of your own life's soundtrack? Every word you hear, you think 'yes, that is exactly how I feel right now'?"

Oh, yes, a few of those. Not all good. "Yeah, that's happened to me a couple times. The song is never the same again after that." A pause, thinking. "This one is on your soundtrack?"

She squared her jaw. "I was in a pub. Just gotten dumped by a man I had been trying far too hard to please. This song came up on the jukebox at exactly the right time."

He looked surprised. "You got dumped?"

"Mmm."

He couldn't keep the smile from playing on his lips. "Not willing to conform to his ideal, I expect."

She was grimly amused. "I believe the words 'pig-headed bitch' were involved."

"Ouch." He made a serious effort to contain his smile as he pictured the incident in his mind. She would not have taken lightly someone else changing her plans. But the breakup obviously would have been for the best, in the end. The poor guy wouldn't have stood a chance.

They drove on without further conversation for some time. The music automatically went on to another album, and Robbie found himself singing along with Freddie Mercury's Bohemian Rhapsody without thinking about it. Until he caught Laura staring at him.

"What?"

"I don't think I've ever heard you sing. You have a rather nice voice."

He blushed and smiled shyly at the praise. "Queen is fun to sing along with. Val never liked them much, though. Too weird, she said."

The next number began.

"She keeps Moet et Chandon
In her pretty cabinet . . ."

Robbie stopped singing and became more serious as he listened to the lyrics.

She considered his change of mood. "Killer Queen is on your soundtrack?" She sounded a bit incredulous.

"It wasn't before. But it should have been playing the night I met Ann Kriel for dinner." His temper had soured noticeably.

"She abused you, didn't she? Not physically, I mean, but . . ."

"Yeah, that's a pretty good word for it. I certainly learned a lesson from that experience."

"What lesson is that?"

"Not to accept dates with women I don't know very well. Haven't been on one since."

She reflected a while. "Doesn't that put you in a Catch-22? How are you supposed to get to know a woman well if you don't go out with her?"

He grimaced a little. "Can't say it bothers me much. I guess I'm turning into a grumpy old hermit."

But the way he said it told her how he really felt. Once bitten, twice shy. The thought saddened her.

But he perked up as he drummed his fingers on the steering wheel along with the beginning of the next song. "I love that riff." And he started singing along again.

"Ooo, you make me live
whatever this world can give to me
It's you, you're all I see . . ."

He kept glancing at her as he sang, grinning and singing in a funny, exaggerated manner. She laughed along with him, and joined in singing for the next couple lines.

"Ooo, you make me live now honey
Ooo, you make me live."

As the song continued, he kept glancing her way as he voiced the lyrics. But the smile slowly faded from his face. In fact, he was more looking at her now and only glancing at the road.

"Oh, you're the best friend
That I ever had
I've been with you such a long time
You're my sunshine . . ."

Then he stopped completely and let Freddie explain the rest.

"And I want you to know
That my feelings are true
I really love you
Oh, you're my best friend."

He snapped his head forward again, swallowing hard and jerking the car back straight in its lane.

"Well, that song will never be the same again."

* * *