Moller grunted, and turned into the parking lot at the barracks, sliding into his usual space. “Guess that's why it's wrapped in tinfoil.” He got out of the car and looked up into the clear sky. “Last night,” he said, “I didn't go right home. I got in my car and I drove north. Sometimes I do my best thinking in a car. Called my wife, told her I was working a case and I'd be home late—you ever do that?”