“I am not going to bed,” Quinn stated adamantly, after he and Brent got out of the cab and went into the house. “I’ve just spent fourteen hours in one, by the doctor’s count.” He crossed to the sofa, sitting carefully so as not to jog his head too much.
Brent sighed. “You always were a lousy patient. Okay, as long as you stay there, I won’t nag.”
“You’d better sit, too. You’re hardly ready to run a marathon.”
“I will, after I let Hardin in.” Before Quinn could respond, the doorbell rang and Brent went to greet Hardin, bringing him into the living room.
“How the hell did you know?” Quinn asked.
Brent winked. “I saw him drive up.”
Hardin took a seat in one of the chairs flanking the sofa, declining coffee when Brent offered it. “I need a full statement on what went down yesterday,” he
