“What?But—why?”
That was tricky. Therealreason was so I could go through to the fire escape and climb up to keep watch overhissilly ass, which I did once I’d finished in his apartment. His place had been the easy pick—covered in crime scene tape and stickers. At least I knew I wouldn’t disturb some poor family in the early morning hours sidling through their apartment just to get to the fire escape. So that’s what I’d done, then climbed up the few flights to Villers’ window, and kept watch.
But once I was sure Villiers was not planning to kill or arrest him, and it seemed as though they were winding up, I’d decided to take a quick look around Bax’s apartment on my way back down to the car.
Just in case there was something he needed. And as it happened, I came across something I’d thought he might. I’d forgotten about it the night before—left it in the car, but I’d fetched it while he was still sleeping and now I pulled it across from the kitchen counter. “I wanted to get this for you,” I said, holding out the photo album.
The look on his face made me more than glad I’d stopped along the way to take it. He grabbed it from me, staring at the cover as though it might suddenly disappear. He said nothing, but his lips parted as though he wanted to.
“Is that the one?” I asked. “The one you wanted, I mean? You mentioned it that first night…I’m sorry I didn’t let you go back for it. I didn’t realize then what it meant to you.” The quick look I’d had had told me it was filled with pictures of his family.
He swallowed and nodded, and then I saw him blink a few times.
“Go and shower,” I said quickly. “Wake up properly, then we can strategize.”
“Yeah,” he said vaguely. “Shower.” He padded on bare feet over to the bathroom, photo album still clutched to his chest, and then looked back at me from the doorway. “Thanks, Angelo.”
I wasn’t sure how to read his expression.
* * *
I heatedup the food I’d bought while Bax showered and dressed again—although he was in his perennial hoodie and jeans.
“We should probably get you some new clothes,” I said, passing over a carton of noodles.
He stared into it.
“I haven’t poisoned it.” I smiled so he knew I was joking, but his face stayed blank. It reminded me of when we first met, his cautiousness, his unwillingness to let his guard down.
“I thought you didn’t like Chinese.”
I shrugged. “You do. So eat up. We have business we need to take care of.”
He sat on the stool at the tiny kitchenette bench and began forking the noodles into his mouth, watching me with drawn eyebrows.
“What?” I asked at last.
“You’re being nice to me.”
“Am I?”
“Yeah.” He wolfed down another forkful. “What’s up with that?”
Couldn’t the kid just begrateful? Whatever Villiers had said to him seemed to have reverted him to his initial misgivings about me. Still, I could hardly blame his boss for expecting an FBI agent to, well. Act like an FBI agent in the presence of a suspected criminal. “Frankly, you seemed a little fragile after the conversation with your mentor. I thought sleep and a meal might help restore you.”
“Restore me?”
“We’re still partners in this investigation. I need my partner to be on the game,” I pointed out, and bit into an egg roll.
It wasn’t bad.
Baxter poked around in his noodles as though his appetite had waned. “I let him down,” he said at last, and I could see the pain on his face. “The one guy in the world who wants what’s best for me, and I let him down.”
My first instinct was to tell him that I, too, wanted what was best for him. I bit it back, surprised at myself. “I know how that feels,” I said instead.
He poked some more, then said, “Go on?”
Slightly taken aback, I tried to find the words. “I…let my mentor down, too. Catastrophically.”
