Page 4 of Keller

Leah sighs and grabs my elbow as if I were fragile and might break. She helps me up like I do my grandmother. I realize my knees are sore, but I don't say anything.

We walk in silence. The Quarter thins as we move away from Bourbon, the noise fading to jazz drifting from open doorways and the occasional burst of laughter.

By the time we reach our cars, exhaustion drags at my bones. Leah hugs me hard before she walks over to her car, and I drive home on autopilot. Talk about a dramatic ending to what was supposed to be a quiet cocktail.

I getto the café early because I always get to the café early.

I grab a corner table and have my laptop open with the notebook beside it before I sit down.

"Quinn," the barista calls to let me know my order is ready. The hum of the espresso machine and low conversation create a predictable rhythm that slots into place.

I pull up my calendar and start building the day piece by piece. Morning briefing at nine. Case review at eleven. Lunch that I'll probably skip. Afternoon calls with the DEA liaison and someone from the state attorney's office, whose name I should remember but don't.

Financial crimes make sense. Money leaves trails, numbers don't lie. You follow the pattern, connect the dots, and build the case one transaction at a time. Patience wins.

I take a sip of coffee and let the bitterness ground me.

"Jesus, Quinny. You look like you ironed your face."

I'm not sure if that is a compliment or if she thinks I look like shit.

Leah drops into the chair across from me, sunglasses still on, hair pulled into a messy bun that somehow looks intentional. She smells like Fruity Pebbles and barely concealed judgment.

I close my laptop halfway. "Good morning to you, too."

"It's eight-thirty on a Saturday." She pushes her sunglasses up and squints at me. "Who hurt you?"

"No one. I'm working. I start my new position officially next week, and I want to be prepared.”

"Of course you are." She rummages for something in her purse that she doesn't pull out and then leans forward, elbows on the table, chin in her hands. "You know what normal people do after almost dying? They sleep in. Maybe cry a little. They definitely don't show up on a Saturday morning looking like they're about to brief Congress."

"I didn't almost die. And why are you so dramatic?"

"Uh-huh." She taps my notebook with one manicured nail. "What's this? Your manifesto?"

"Case notes I’m reviewing about this task I’ll be heading up.” I drag the notebook closer.

“Fun Saturday.” She grins and bolts up when her name is called.

She returns with something pale and foamy that smells like dessert. "So tell me. How's the new gig? You settling in?"

Pride flickers warm under my ribs. “I’m still not officially on, but I think it’s going to be great. I'm really going to like solving this puzzle, and I get to do it all on my own. Intense, but good."

"Intense how?"

"Intense because there are a lot of nooks and crannies. Intense because there is no one else to take the blame if I flub this."

"That's where you'll shine. There's no one else to take credit for your hard work."

I wrap my hands around my coffee cup and let the heat seep into my palms. "True. It's just meticulous checking and double-checking, and I don't want to miss anything."

"You're a natural at that."

"Thank you. I want to do well at this."

Leah tilts her head, studying me over the rim of her cup. "You know what you could do? Run a search."

My stomach tightens. "What?"