I correct her because that goofy redhead turnedmylife around. “Trust me, the luck was mine.”
“How so?”
“I was self-destructive when I got taken. Caring for her gave me purpose.”
Captivity made me realize that even though I’d given my all to my wife and best friend, and they treated my loyalty like it was worthless, I was still needed somewhere in this world. As long as I was useful, life was worth living.
Her eyes warm, and there’s no pity in them, but she also considers if there’s space for more questions. She tilts her head and pins me with an unnerving silence, giving me space to say more if I want to.
She’s a good listener.
But I’m not a great talker.
Not about myself.
“So what happened today?” I ask, thinking back to when she walked in like she’d been hit by a dump truck.
She sucks her teeth. “Am I that transparent?”
“I pay attention.”
She sighs heavily. “A fatality case. Zoe Marshall. The tox reports are finally in, and Callum assigned me the closure pass. I should probably just rubber stamp it, but something felt wrong.”
“Wrong how?”
She speaks with a certainty she doesn’t trust. “Isn’t it weird that a young girl was drunk driving by the quarry? So that’s the first thing I thought was strange…but Ingram said…”
“Suicide?” I answer.
“How did you know?”
“Small town, big whispers. Nobody wants to say it out loud.”
“Which is exactly why I don’t really want to keep the case open. It’s touchy. Hurtful. I’m the rookie in the office, and Ingram is way more qualified…”
“Are you giving yourself reasons not to trust your gut?” I quirk an eyebrow.
Her eyes widen.
I shake my head. “You know my compass?”
“Yeah. The one you use like a worry stone sometimes?”
I laugh to myself. “It makes sense you’d see it that way, but it’s more like my crystal ball.” I think back to when I decided to keep it with me at all times.
She lifts her eyebrows. “What’s that mean?”
I pull out my compass from my pocket, where I keep it at all times. I remember in captivity feeling fucking lucky they never took it from me. I smooth my thumb over the scratched surface, then lift it. “I’ve had this compass since the SEALs. We were on a mission; I was with just one teammate at the time. Satellites went out while we were on our way to our location.”
“So your compass saved you?”
I laugh roughly. “No, it didn’t.” I glance down at the object, remembering the day vividly and how it was one of those times when I might not have come out alive. “There are magnetic anomalies, places on this earth where a compass isn’t reliable, and we happened to be in one.”
“What did you do?” she asks.
“First, I calmed my nervous system when I started to think we were fucked. And then I visualized our map, all the planning I had stored up in my memory, and I just knew which way we had to go. It was instinct.”
She teases, but there’s appreciation and affection behind it. “I didn’t know your worry stone was so sentimental.”
