driven to three, with him tailing her, before he’d passed her car and led her to a twenty-four-hour convenience store. He’d gone straight for the self-serve slush machines once they were inside.
“Slushes were a better idea, anyway.” He took a long pull on his straw, with frozen azure liquid flowing up the narrow tube. “It’s too hot for coffee.”
She sipped her own cherry drink and managed to swallow. At least hers wasn’t blue.
“I still can’t believe you don’t like raspberry. I thought every kid did.”
Not every kid. “I’m not a kid,” she said instead.
“I know that.”
“Anyway, I don’t like the way it stains your tongue.”
“My tongue?”
“You know what I mean.”
He grinned, and she tried to ignore the weightlessness in her belly.
“Anyway, red slush stains, too.”
He pointed at her mouth, which in daylight would have looked like Santa’s suit by now.
“Good point. I’m not really a fan of any flavor.”
“Why didn’t you say so?”
“How could I when you looked like an excited kid filling up your cup?” Or when he might have asked her why.
“Oh. I forgot.” He pulled his wallet from his back pocket and held out a five-dollar bill. “I said I would buy yours.”
“It wasn’t necessary.”
“Yes, it was. Is. I always keep my commitments.”
His words were a little intense for a promise to buy a drink, but she let him press the bill into her hand.
“Thanks.”
“It’s the least I could do.”
His mouth opened again, as if he might do more than that, like ask her what really had happened that afternoon. She spoke up before he had the chance.
“Why do you want to leave the task force?”
“I never said I did.”
Instead of answering, she waited. It was none of her business, just as her reason for losing it that day wasn’t his. Still, she couldn’t help wondering why someone who appeared to care about his work could walk away from the victims.
“Fine. I requested a transfer. The double murder will be my last case with the task force.”
“Can I ask why?”
“Sometimes people need a change.”
“Do you know where you’ll be transferred?”
He shook his head and looked toward the water, though the fence in front of him probably blocked his view of it.
“Did Dawson mention I was being transferred?”
“No, he didn’t say anything.”
“Then how’d you know?”
“You just seemed like somebody who needed a change.”
It wasn’t the whole truth but as close as she could get. She could no more tell him the rest than she could share her own experience with a predator and her suspicion that BIG DADDY and Emily’s abductor might be the same person. How could she admit that she sensed a desperation in him? Or that the feeling was so strong it squeezed inside her own chest?
“Because I’ve been grumpy lately?”
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