“Onion, ginger, tomato paste…”
“Ginger? In eggs?”
He pops some into his mouth. “Not my idea…”
“But your very good decision. Damn…” I might be tucking in for seconds at this rate.
He gives a small smile. “Glad you like it.”
We eat in silence for a few minutes. I look at my watch and realize I need to get to work soon.
The Zoe Marshall case floods my brain again.
I clear my throat. “So. Yesterday was…a lot.”
“Mmm.” He agrees. “Do you want to go over anything else you thought was suspicious?” he asks. “I said I’d help.”
I take a bite of toast and wipe my fingers together to get the crumbs off.
“I saw the site. I think I need to see the car next.”
He nods, his aquamarine eyes listening with intent.
I think back on the detail. “The tire marks are inconclusive, and obviously, weather makes it impossible to turn back time and see for myself.” I reflect back on the report; there’s extensive damage everywhere. “The car, though—it’s still untouched at the pound. The photos concentrated on front-end damage, expected but I want to see for myself if there’s anything else.”
He scratches his stubble. “I was thinking last night about your comments on the tread. Maybe there’s rear-end damage.”
That makes me pause.
“You think she could have been pushed off that cliff?”
Why didn’t I think of that? I wondered if there was evidence of the gas pedal being rigged.
“Why are you so annoyingly good at this?” I crunch some more toast.
“I’m old,” he says.
“…Der,” I correct.
His lips twist into a smile. “Been there, done that. But you’re nearly ten years younger, and you’re good at this, too.”
My cheeks warm. “Trying to be.”
“You are,” he says simply.
There’s a beat of silence.
He stands to clear his plate. “But you don’t have to do it alone to prove you’re good. One thing I learned in the military: being in a pack doesn’t mean anything about the strength of each wolf.”
I never thought of it that way. I was always told if you want it done, do it yourself.
“I appreciate your help,” I say carefully. “You’re a good mentor.”
His lips draw into a thin line, and he nods once.
“And I don’t take that for granted,” I add, because despite what he said about wolves, something inside me still wants to prove I’m good enough to beleaderof the pack.
“I’m not asking you to back off.” I’m almost nervous now, setting boundaries. It’s probably even silly, given Anton would make my job easier. “Just…I want to earn it.”
