Darius was still agonizing over what lie to tell Jane.  It was hardly a pleasant feeling, planning out a lie to tell someone.  Especially someone he liked.  He was raised not to lie, but since going into witness protection, lies had become second nature for him.  And so, apparently had killing.  He could hear the sirens coming from the south, the direction where he had caught up with the van and ended two lives.  He still wasn't feeling any pangs of conscience at his act.  And that bothered him more than the act itself.  He should feel some remorse, but he didn't.<br/><br/>"I know I owe you an explanation, Jane.  But the one I have you're not going to like.  Call it road rage.  That van ran a light, almost ran over a pedestrian and cut me off in the process.  And my mind went on automatic pilot, determined to catch them and give them a piece of my mind.  Which is why I honked my horn at you when you got in my path, my rage taking over.  The truth is, I'm prone to fits of rage, the result of a baseball bat to the head during a fight when I was a kid.  It's the same reason I don't hear too well."  The bat to the head was the truth, but Darius wasn't about to tell Jane it was a mobster that was wielding the bat and pounding him to a pulp.  Better to let her believe it was a juvenile act from his youth.<br/><br/>"So, why did you jump out in front of my truck in the first place?"  He motioned her towards the couch as he asked.<br/><br/>Darius owed Jane some time, given that he'd almost run her over.  But he also wanted to get out of his clothes and into the shower at the first available opportunity.  The clothes would have gunshot residue on them, as did his hands.  So it was to the washing machine for his clothes and  the shower for him.  And then a cleaning of his Beretta would be in order.  He'd been a cop long enough to know he needed to cover his tracks.