We both smile cordially at him until he’s once again gone.
“I thought it was, but I figured it was only my perspective.”
“No. Something was off, especially with that Lasko guy. Something isn’t right about this case. If they contact you again, call me. Don’t go there alone, do you hear me?”
“I won’t,” I agree.
We each butter some pumpernickel bread, staring at one another as if urging the other to speak first.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?”
I’d refused to spill any details in the interrogation room, because I didn’t trust that they weren’t listening by some other means to get more intel on Koen. I don’t know why I’m protective of him, and I’m trying not to focus on it, either.
I swallow another mouthful of wine. “He threatened to hurt you, so I went with him.”
She rolls her eyes, deadpanning at me. “I know that part, G. Tell me what happened while he had you. Did you go on a job with him? What is a job? What’s he do?”
I shrug. “I don’t know, honestly. I don’t think I was on ajobwith him, but there was a night when he took me to some backwoods bar where he disappeared for a decent chunk of time and came back with a speck of blood on his cheek.”
“Had he been bleeding?”
“Not that I could see.”
“Could’ve been a nosebleed,” she reasons.
“Could’ve been.” The thought that she might help me unravel some of this with a level head, instead of screaming at me for being a moron, has me relaxing, or the red wine does. Either way, I slouch into the booth, thankful we’re towards the back of the restaurant, where it’s quiet.
“Did he hurt you?” she asks, her eyes growing dark and serious.
I shake my head. “No. He’s… obsessed with me.”
“Yeah, I got that much.”
I grin a little sadly.
“And you?”
“And me, what?”
“Were you equally as obsessed with him? I know the state they found you in. Do you have… feelings for him?” She’s treading carefully, as if I’m a fragile girl in danger of falling apart at any moment.
“No. I mean… I don’t know. I felt things when I was with him, but it can’t be real, can it?”
“Why not?”
“He kidnapped me, Ali.”
She bites the inside of her cheek. “You look well taken care of.”
I laugh at her absurdity. “He killed all the men you set me up with, did you forget that part? And that’s only half of it.”
She narrows her gaze at me, leaning forward. “What’s the other half of it?”
Our punctual server chooses that exact moment to waltz up with our food, placing it down and seeming to notice the tension building between us.
After we thank him and he moves away, Allison doubles down, glaring at me. “Well?”
I look around the room. There’s only one other couple in this part of the restaurant, an older pair, at least ten booths from us.
