In the morning, he’d said when I asked about work. Not soon. Not after midnight. Just morning. It had sounded simple enough at the time. But the more I turned it over, the less it fit. Twenty miles wasn’t a casual walk. It wasn’t something you misjudged by a little.
Even at a hard pace, it was hours. Which meant leaving in the middle of the night to get somewhere in the morning didn’t add up. Not unless he was lying. Or unless something about his nights didn’t follow the same rules as the rest of us.