I returned to the hotel around seven and collapsed into bed, at last surrendering to sleep.
It was nearly noon when a knock pulled me from dreams.
Still half-asleep, I wrapped myself in the hotel’s thick robe and asked who it was. John’s voice came, lighthearted:
“Good morning, Sleeping Beauty.”
“It’s almost lunch,” I corrected, letting him in.
“That’s why I brought coffee. How did you sleep?”
“I couldn’t fall asleep for hours. Jet lag,” I admitted.
“Ah, that explains it. For a moment I was afraid you’d run away. Vector would’ve had my head.”
I laughed. “Why would I run away from you?”
“Well, how should I know? You had your reasons to faked your death before. Why did you run off three years ago?”
My smile faded. “I thought we agreed not to dig up the past. I won’t discuss it, Joh
