Journey's End
The little drop-off depot for her bus was within five miles of John's ranch-style house and right across the street from a small bar where the shift sometimes had a few beers together off duty. The last of the greyhound buses was leaving and soon the night would be still and quiet. It was five minutes to midnight when a rather too thin young woman got her few bags across the narrow road to the bar. She didn't go in, though; instead she put a heavy backpack and an even heavier duffel bag on the hood of Roy's car, then leaned against it heavily. She was well aware someone would mention her presence to him, but frankly that duffel weighed more than she did. She was a lot stronger than she looked.
"Hey, you know, DeSoto doesn't like strangers on his wheels."
"No, he just doesn't like you messing around with his car, and never has, Kelly. Now, you listen up Chet and listen real good: I've crossed close to twenty-five hundred miles in two days, nearly non-stop on that stupid bus. I'm in no mood to listen to your whinging. You were the absolute last person I needed to see first." She half growled. "Shut up and go fetch Roy or John, you bat-blind twat."
"Oh, you better be glad Roy didn't hear that." A new voice broke in causing her to look tiredly in Stanley's direction.
"Capt?" Kelly sounded miffed.
"Chet, go fetch." Hank told him in a rough tone. "Just shut up and go tell Lopez to bring Roy without saying why, then get your tail back out here."
"I don't really care, mutt has know me for over a dozen years and he can't recognize me under a good street light? Really?" She mumbled at him. "I've had maybe two hours of sleep in the last seventy-two. Pretty sure I can still find the energy to slap Chet, though."
"Now, now...let's not play 'puppy swat' on Kelly."
"Why not?"
"Because I said so."
"Not good enough, try again."
"If Roy or John said that, it'd be good enough."
"You aren't either of them. Nice try, but you're not even close to being young enough, for one thing."
"HEY!"
"Hank? Marco said I was..." He paused at the tap on his shoulder, turned and smiled. "Sweetheart?"
"Backseat?"
"How long have you been awake, to ask me that?"
"Way, way, too long. Still wanna see what Papua comes up with for a reason for me not to play Swat Puppy on Kelly, though. That idiot started in on me right off, soon as I put the bags on the hood."
"Don't. Not now, anyway. He'll give you better reasons later."
"Good enough."
"Hey...you just said..."
"That you're not Roy or John, what is good enough coming from them has nothing to do with you or anyone else and never has. You know this is stuff you already know...you used to be brighter than that. Getting senile?"
"Smart-assed kid." Hank groused, but gave it up...besides, with the way DeSoto was grinning...
"Where's Johnny?" She asked Roy plaintively.
"Not here yet." And he took out his cell to give Gage a heads up, told him to stay home and he'd be over in a bit.
"Something came up?"
"Nope, somebody came home. Wants her Johnny. And she's wiped."
"Not too wiped to smack a stinkin' mutt."
"Down girl, I told you, wait for Chet to give you better reasons." Roy said firmly to Gage's laughter.
"Five minutes off the greyhound is a record, even for that mutt."
"Best bring her home, Roy: Wiped and pissed off isn't a good combination for her."
"Hey, Jane?" Marco called, "What you pack in this duffel? Granite blocks? I thought your pack was heavy, but this thing..."
"Not quite, no. It does outweigh me by fifty pounds, though: I checked."
Roy hefted it at that remark and narrowed his eyes at her: Didn't say anything yet. That could wait too. He got them put in the back and got her in the front, two minutes after she sat down, her head was on his lap, she was starting to snore...and he was grinning.
"Backseat my butt." He muttered, running his fingers through her hair, then started the car and headed for John's.
TBC