35
After turning Tipton over to the fine folks at the Madison Street Jail’s intake, we stopped at a do-it-yourself car wash on McDowell and rinsed out the backseat of the truck as best we could. Still, the stink of vomit lingered. I figured I could get the truck detailed in the next day or so before I returned it to Jake.
It was dark when I dropped off Conor at his place.
“Ya coming in?” he asked as he handed me the truck keys by the driver’s door.
“I feel like sleeping in my own bed tonight.”
“Ya don’t look well, love. Ya okay to drive?”
“Just got a headache, and my nose hurts. I’ll survive.” I hugged him and gave him a peck on the lips.
“I could follow ya back to your place.”
“Up to you. I won’t be much company.”
When we walked in my front door, I made a beeline to my kitchen fo
