Blood Files

The car ride was quiet, at least from Eric's point of view. His mind was a million miles away. He patted Mouse's head when he stuck it over the front seat. He watched the Chicago at night pass. When Harry parked the car, he climbed out and pulled his seat forward for the dog's exit. He didn't bother grabbing the leash he dragged from his collar.

He waited until he was at the door to ask. "What did Murphy find?"

Midnight was tired which surprised him. Most "rides", as John liked to call them, never left him so drained. The emotion of longing still panged in his chest. He had given up viewing the Almighty's fingerprints like this as blessings long ago. He only wanted to be rid of it.

In the cab, he called ahead and ordered food so when he walked through the door of his suite, room service had left a large cart with silver-lid plates. A bottle of wine chilled in a silver bucket along side. He emptied his pockets and dropped his bag by the foyer table before he lifted the lid on a porterhouse steak and potatoes.