"Everything set?"

I saw Brandon nod, still pushing the backseat to a horizontal position, and headed to the guesthouse. Trisha followed me, cam in hand, while Isaac filmed everything from the middle of the garden. Nightfall was on us, and it was time to hit the road for the long drive to Pennhurst, where we intended to get just past midnight.

"Kujo?" I called, crossing the living room toward the dining room.

"Fran," was the instant response.

"Ready to go home, my boy?"

I heard the shuffling under the table and crouched down.

"Bring bag."

"You wanna keep it?"

"Fran."

I nodded, chuckling, and picked up my sleeping bag. It was hot as an electric blanket.

"C'mon, they're all waiting for us," I said, feeling the heat against my side, from my leg to my shoulder. "You and I are riding with Brandon on his truck, 'cause it's got more room for you."

"Brandon come?"

"Yes, my boy. C'mon." I started to the front door, the heat stuck to my side like the huge beast wouldn't move without me. "He called the people in charge of Pennhurst and convinced them to have you back. He even got them to promise they'll ready a good place for you."

"Quaker. Tunnel."

"Oh, that's where you used to live? In the tunnel under Quaker Hall? Let's see where they settle you now. You've been away for seven years. Maybe somebody took up your old room and you get a better one."

We walked out and I heard Kujo growl when we found Brandon holding the backseat door open for him. He also held their SLS cam, and I saw his eyes widen, down on the screen, and then jump at me to look up all the way to the porch roof.

"Man, he's huge," he muttered, going back to his Haunter supreme poised attitude in a heartbeat and nodding to the pickup truck. "C'mon, hope in."

"Go," I whispered.

We all let out surprised exclamations when we saw the truck rock like a grizzly had just jumped in. However, the vehicle didn't look like bearing any extra weight.

Brandon closed the door with a funny smirk and opened the passenger's door for me. Both back windows and the rear glass were covered with black vinyl, and we'd hung a black sheet of fabric between the back and front seats, to keep from exposing Kujo to the road lights.

I climbed in while he circled the car to get in behind the wheel. I lifted the sheet of fabric with a reassuring smile.

"You okay back there, my boy?"

"Nice truck."

Brandon scoffed, shaking his head. He handed me a K2 and a GoPro with a suction mount to stick it right under the handle over the backseat window, pointing down at the seats. The K2 spiked to red and stayed like that the moment I placed it on top of the organizer between our seats.

"It's gonna run out of battery pretty soon," I said, smiling. "Let me know if you need anything, my boy."

"Yes. Yes. Kujo fine."

I smiled once again and turned in my seat to buckle the seatbelt. In the garden, the other three were climbing in my car. We'd decided to take only two of the three cars, and fancy as Amy's was, mine had more room for the three of them on a five-hour drive.

Mike and Susan came out of their house to watch us leave, surely relieved to know I'd be away for a couple of days and would come back without the problematic TV stars.

Brandon turned the GPS and the music on, eyes fixed straight ahead and both hands on the wheel.

"Wanna get a shut-eye?" he asked a few minutes later. "No need to stay up the whole way."

"Maybe later," I replied softly, eyes on the road like him.

It was an awkward situation. We'd spent the day getting ready for this, packing, making calls, readying the car, booking accommodation, taking turns for a nap, and a break only to have dinner with Amy, Trisha and Isaac. He and Isaac had even spent a couple of hours shooting B roll of the Manor, the guesthouse and the surroundings.

We'd had zero opportunities to spend any time alone, forget about talking about anything private. I didn't expect him to come up with anything out of a romantic drama like my name, like saying he wanted to start something with me, and I suspected he thought I did. And now that we were alone at last, with a bunch of hours ahead, we weren't really alone. Kujo was in the backseat, wide awake, and the truck had more cams on than a TV studio. Maybe later, in the morning, after leaving Kujo in his old new home.

So I was surprised when, a whole hour later, he turned the music down, still looking ahead like he was all alone in the truck.

"Hey, Fran, about last night," he said, oh so cautious.

I had spent all this while thinking and planning what I would say to something like that. And had come up empty-handed, because I had no idea what he would say past those three words, about last night. So I decided to play naïve.

"I'm forever in your debt."

He glanced at me with a mild frown. I faced him with a warm smile. In the end, it was the truth.

"I would've never been able to free Kujo without your help. And you did it despite all the trouble and the pain it caused you." I shrugged. "It ain't no secret I didn't like you. But you've more than earned my respect and my gratitude."

He just nodded, eyes on the road from under a mild frown. We both knew that wasn't what he was talking about. A couple of minutes of thick silence later, he sort of tried to go back to it.

"Ever been to LA?"

Excuse me? "Nah. I'm an all-Bostonian girl. LA's too messy for me."

He raised his eyebrows with a quick smile. "Well, if you ever feel like taking a break from New England, the West Coast has its own charm."

"You, for example?"

I liked to make him chuckle the way he did now, nodding.

I wasn't quite sure what all this meant. Plain to see he didn't want to be too explicit with four cams rolling all around us, and I didn't want to take any chances with half words, half-suggesting anything that could be misunderstood.

"About the guesthouse," he said, and his voice allowed me to hope he'd dropped the about-last-night thing. "I feel responsible for what happened there, and I'd like to take care of the reparations."

"It was a maintenance issue. If not the insurance, the Blotter Foundation will cover it."

"But if they do, you wouldn't have any saying in the repairs and the re-decoration, right?"

"Not like I live there."

He raised a hand with another quick glance at me.

"I wanna do it, Fran. So please, just let me do it."

"Okay. Your money, not mine. You should talk about it with your friend Jenkins."

"Ha! You don't like him."

I shrugged. "He's a lawyer."

"From head to toe. Okay, I'll call him when I get home."

Somehow, that little shallow chat seemed to clear the air. From then on, we killed time talking about superficial stuff. Other than that night by the Quabbin, this was our first casual conversation, and I found out he could be smart, funny and just as goofy as me. Which made him a great partner on the road.

I had my painkillers a while later, and only then I noticed I hadn't seen him take any pills or remedies since the last cleansing. I was about to ask him about it, but once again, the cams kept me quiet.