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anything out there.”
    “True,” he says, though I can tell he isn’t buying. “But I think this is about weaponizing fairy venom.”
    “I think you’re right.”
    “You do?” His eyebrows lift.
    “The swamp around Donaldsonville has the highest concentration of egg-laying fairies in the infested region,” I say. “If they’re looking for a steady source of venom, this is the place to be.”
    “I agree.”
    “We agree. Good.” I cross my arms and nod, trying to act like Hitch and I being on the same page is business as usual. “And we also agree I should go out tothe docks and see if I can figure out who those guys are stealing medical supplies for.”
    “You can pretend you’re interested in a job transfer.”
    “I’m ready to give up scooping poop and become a thieving scumbag and I need them to tell me how to get in on the action.” I smile, starting to look forward to my mission. Dramatics can be fun. As long as they’re not of the personal variety. “I’ll bring my Coach bag and look greedy.”
    “Good.”
    “Good.”
    “Agreeing.” He chucks me on the shoulder with a light fist. “This is nice.”
    “You sound surprised.”
    He shrugs. “Well . . . we didn’t get along so well the last time I was here.”
    Right. We didn’t get along at all . Except for the times when we did, like when he tried to save my life and I ended up saving his instead and we made out like randy teenagers in the front seat of my boyfriend’s police cruiser.
    Cane wasn’t there at the time, of course, but he saw the recording. Hitch and I unknowingly activated the camera on the dashboard when he hit the sirens to scare away the fairies. Cane’s face after he watched that amateur video was painful, to say the least. The recording, and the fact that I lied about knowing Hitch when he first showed up in Donaldsonville, led to our extended time-out. Cane says he’s forgiven me, but sometimes I wonder . . .
    Hitch offered to talk to him—to apologize and explain that the kiss was just a reaction to a near death experience—but I declined. I didn’t think it would help, and a part of me didn’t want Hitch to apologize. I didn’t want him to be sorry for a kiss that felt so much like going home.
    I glance up at his scruffy face, and for a second I would swear Hitch is thinking about those minutes when we got along so well, too. But then he smiles, an innocent grin without a hint of longing in it, and I feel like a fool. “But I’m glad,” he says. “Really glad.”
    “Me, too.”
    “I already rented a car for you, a Land Rover in case you need to go off-road. I parked near the bus station.” He starts for the end of the alley, but stops when he sees I’m not following.
    “Thanks. But . . .” I glance down at my not-trying-too-hard outfit and sigh. “I should run home and change before I go.”
    “Why?”
    “The dock agents are both men. They come into town for groceries and booze every few weeks. They’re probably fairly desperate for female companionship, so I—”
    “But it’s an hour drive. Right?” His forehead furrows and an exclamation point made of stress forms between his eyes.
    “Yeah. Maybe an hour and fifteen if the roads aren’t in good shape after the rain.”
    “You should get started,” he says. “The sooner youget there, the sooner you get back, the sooner we can decide on our next step.”
    “If I can’t get one of them to talk, there might not be a next step.”
    “You’ll get them to talk. Or I will.” His jaw muscle clenches and I can tell he’s thinking about how he’ll pound the truth out the men at the docks if I fail, but even I know what a stupid plan that is.
    “Hitch, please.” I’m tempted to lay a calming hand on his arm, but know contact between us is never calming. “A few minutes of preparation could save a lot of time in the long run, and spare you a trip out to the bayou.”
    “I have my suit with me. I’ll be fine.”
    “Yes, but if these