'Makes the world go round,' Hawk said.
'That's love,' I said.
'Same thing,' Hawk said.
'Not always,' Susan said.
The Jaguar was almost soundless as it purred through the inconsistent snowfall in the dark.
'We have to talk with her,' Susan said. 'It's a difficult time for her, but . . .' Susan shook her head.
'Time like this she may say things she'd not say if everything was more cohesive,' I said. Susan nodded.
'Still it might be pretty bad for her to be questioned about things like this now.'
'I'm not worried about her,' Susan said. 'Right now I'm worried about you. They're going to frame you on a cocaine charge.'
'Yes.'
'And they can probably make it stick. You did hijack three hundred pounds of it.'
'Kilos,' I said.
'Kilos, pounds, whatever,' Susan said.
'And you got two hundred keys in Henry Cimoli's cellar,' Hawk said.
'So they can have police arrest you anywhere. You can't be safe by merely staying out of Wheaton.'
'True,' I said.
'And surely you can't be safe by staying in Wheaton.'
'True also,' I said.
'So we have to talk with Caroline,' Susan said.
'And if this is too much for her, too soon right after her tragedy?' I said.
'Then it is,' Susan said. 'I don't think it will be. I don't think she has a future unless we get this unraveled. But if it destroys her, then it destroys her. I will not let it destroy you,' she said.
'Your car's back at the motel,' Hawk said to Susan.
'Yes. So are my clothes and my makeup. My God, my entire face is in the motel room.'
'No,' I said. 'Stay out of the motel room. If they got hold of you they'd use you to get me.'
'My entire face,' Susan said.
I said, 'Forget the face.'
We were all quiet for a space as the wipers made their idiosyncratic sweeps of the windshield.
'Okay,' Susan said. 'But you can't look at me again.'
'I'll stare only at your body,' I said.
'So we going to see Miss Caroline?' Hawk said.
'Best I can think of,' I said.
Hawk slowed, and swung the Jaguar in an easy U-turn.
'You figure the cops be busy at the motel framing us?'
'I hope so,' I said. 'They have no reason to think we know.'
'Unless, of course, that kid,' Susan said, 'what was his name . . . ?'
'Conway.'
'Unless Conway was lying.'
'To what end,' I said.
'An end we don't know,' Susan said.
'Always possible,' I said. 'But complicated.'
'Yes,' Susan said.
'When in doubt I tend to go for the simple,' I said.
'Except for me,' Susan said.
'About you,' I said, 'I'm not in doubt.'
'So we'll act as if Conway was telling the truth,' Susan said.
'It's the best information we've got.'
'And if it's wrong?'
'Readiness is all,' I said.
