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again?  How about that Mary?”  Harry winked at his wife.
She laughed.
With a loud and obviously reluctant sigh, Harry stepped out of the car.  He extended his hand to Burke.  “Thank you, kindly.  Appreciate you letting us reminisce.”
“My pleasure,” Burke said.
Harry turned to Eve and shook her hand as well.
“Drive safe,” Mary added.
Eve watched them enter the diner. “That was a nice thing you just did, Burke.”
“I can be nice.”
  “I’ll reserve judgment on that,” she said.
Without replying, Burke got behind the wheel.
They buckled up and left the parking lot.  Night had fallen and the moon roof showed the sky  lit with stars.  Moonlight illuminated the inside of the car.  Burke popped the Van Halen CD out of the player, and selected a radio station that played fifties and sixties rock.  At the moment, Rick Nelson was singing about “Mary Lou”.
Eve rested her head back against the seat.   Lulled by the soft purr of the engine and the music, she felt she could fall asleep.  She couldn’t believe that, given what was going on in her life now, and, given that she was in the company of a man she’d known for only a few hours.
Burke slid his wallet out from under the driver’s seat.  Not his wallet, Eve realized, this one was brown.
She sat upright. ”That’s not the wallet you stashed under the seat before we went into the diner.”
Burke met her gaze.  “No.”  He flipped open the wallet revealing a driver’s license, passport, social security card, and an assortment of credit cards.  The name on each piece of identification was Richard Patterson, but the photos verifying the ID were all of Burke.
  “Then how did you--” Her eyes narrowed as she figured it out.  “The elderly couple.”
Eve tapped the wallet.  “This was why you wanted to stop here.  Those people delivered new ID for you. They work for you, Burke.”
“Not Burke.  Richard.  From here on, I’m Richard Patterson.”
* * *
They arrived at the cottage in Rowland in the early hours of the morning.  For the most part, the streets they’d driven by were all dark, Eve noticed. Apparently, the residents of Rowland were not people who stayed up into the wee hours of the morning.
As described, the cottage was on an isolated stretch of land.  It looked to be built about forty years back when land could be had in abundance for a reasonable price, as opposed to the near postage-sized lots available now and sold at a premium.
Burke parked in front of the small dwelling and they left the car.  He unlocked the door to the cottage.  Apparently when he and Lanski searched Richard’s body earlier, they came up with more than the notes on the formula, Eve observed.  They’d also found the keys Richard had received from the agent he’d rented the cottage from.
Burke switched on the overhead lights and Eve followed him into one large room.  Curtains on the windows were open, letting in the moonlight.  The place was inviting with a large couch filled with thick-stuffed cushions.  A brick fireplace took up a large portion of one wall.   A framed photograph of a bird poised for flight was centered above the fireplace.  The photo was slightly askew. 
From where she stood at the door, Eve could also see the kitchen. The room was painted a cornflower blue with medium oak accents that gave a warm and homey atmosphere.  She took a step, intent on checking out the two bedrooms, but Burke placed his hand on her arm.
“Give me a minute,” he said.
Without waiting for her reply, Burke strode into the nearest room.  She supposed his training had him looking under table cloths and peeking around corners.  When she’d been on the police force, she’d maintained an awareness of her surroundings, but several years out of that life had taken the suspicion off and she’d gotten out of the habit.
Still, in their case, she wasn’t sure it was just carefully honed habit that had Burke checking their