Seeming to realize that, he moved toward the chair I’d been eyeing before stopping and looking around the restaurant. “There’s a bigger table over in the corner. Let’s move to that one so we won’t be so crowded.”
The guy seemed nice, and I didn’t want him to go to the trouble of moving his shit when I could plant myself at the adjacent table. But before I could object, he sprung into motion, sliding his laptop into a black shoulder bag. Then he marched over to the larger table, once again pausing to pull Mila’s chair out for her.
Now those two, I could see together.
While she was born to stand out and he was quite possibly the most average person I’d ever laid eyes on, he at least looked like he could afford to take her out for a steak and a bottle of wine.
I bet he’s not a recovering addict with a record, either.
“How are you, Toby? Where’ve you been all this time?” Mila asked as she sat.
I scooted past her and took the chair by the window, watching both Toby and the door in case there was trouble. He was nice enough, but he’d have to earn my trust.AfterMorse dug into his personal life.
“When we left the compound, Mom moved us to San Francisco with my grandparents.”
So, he was from the religious cult, too? I eyed him, wondering if he had what it took to stone a woman to death. He didn’t seem like the type, but few psychopaths did.
“Wow. Frisco. Bet that was a culture shock,” Mila replied.
“Yes! Nobody really understood what it was like, but I knew you would. All the people were a little… overwhelming, but it was nice to finally get to know everyone Mom had told me about. Aunts, uncles, friends. Overnight, I went from being an only child with one living parent to having so many people around I had to hide to get a moment to myself. I missed you, though. I wrote, but never received a reply.” His tone wasn’t accusatory, but there was a hint of pain behind his claim.
“You wrote?” Mila asked, sounding genuinely surprised.
“Yeah. At least twice a week. Just like I promised.”
“I swear I never received anything.”
He shrugged her off with a smile. “That’s okay. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.”
“No, I’m really upset I didn’t receive your letters. It was a difficult transition for me, too, and I could have used the correspondence from a friend. I definitely would have written back. I missed you and wondered about you all the time. I don’t know why anyone would keep your letters from me.”
“Actually, it makes perfect sense now that I think about it. We know the reverend isn’t big on outside influences, and I’m sure he and the elders were just protecting you. There are some crazy people out there, you know?”
His insinuation that Mila couldn’t protect herself didn’t sit well with me, but since she was on the run from a murderer, I couldn’t argue.
Flashing him what looked like a conspiratorial smile, she didn’t seem bothered by his comment in the least. “Oh, trust me, I know.”
“Wait until I tell Mom I saw you. She’s gonna flip,” Toby said, changing the subject.
“Is she here?” Mila asked. “She was always so sweet to me.”
“That’s because she loved having you around. She used to call you the daughter she never had. She’s back home in Frisco. I’m only here for a few months on business.”
“What do you do?”
“I’m a developer for a customer relationship management software company called TriLink.”
Committing his company name to memory since Morse would want to investigate it, I took a sip of my coffee.
Mila’s eyes widened with surprise. “A software developer? Wow. I didn’t see that one coming.” She seemed more animated around him. Purer. Younger. Less sarcastic. “It’s crazy that you went into technology when we were raised without computers. What made you decide to go that route?”
His cheeks colored as he looked down, fiddling with the strap of his laptop bag. “Moving across the country, away from my best friend, was the catalyst. Despite the sudden influx of family, life got lonely without you. My grandparents had a computer and they paid for some online classes to keep me from moping during my free time. I don’t think anyone expected me to pick it up as quickly as I did. Gramps used to go off on these tangents about computers being the future. I think I did it partly out of loneliness, and partly to make him happy. He died last year.” Toby looked away.
“Oh, I’m sorry. I’m glad you got to know him, though. He sounds like a good man.”
“You would have liked him. And he would have adored you.”
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “So… software? What’s your favorite thing about it?”
