When I finally look back at him, he’s still watching me.
“What?” I say angrily.
“I’m well aware of my deficiencies,” he says after a moment. “I’ve been laid low many times by my deficiencies. You, on the other hand, have yet to be battered by the closed fist of your own arrogance.”
I laugh, the sound hollow. “How would you know?”
“You lack humility,” he says.
“Me?” My eyes widen. “Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
“Confidence and arrogance are diametrically opposed,” he says with deathly calm. “If you were wiser you’d understand the distinction.”
“You never answered one of Kenji’s earlier questions,” I say, ignoring this. “How long has Rosabelle been missing?”
Warner holds my gaze, his jaw tensing. “We have reason to believe she left the prison grounds just over an hour ago.”
“An hour?” Kenji gapes at Warner. “You waited an entire hour to tell me this?”
Warner pinches the bridge of his nose. “Why are you so loud?”
“Why do you look like shit?” says Kenji, inspecting him up close.
Warner lifts his head. He looks offended, which I find quietly hilarious.
It improves my mood a little.
“Okay, all right,” Kenji says, relenting. “You don’tlook like shit. But you look a little rough. Did you even get any sleep last night? I talked to J and she said—”
“Shut up,” says Warner quietly.
Just like that, my improved mood is gone.
Heat coils in my chest, galvanizing into resentment. Suddenly Warner’s intentions are crystal fucking clear: he didn’t come here to repair things between us. He’s not interested in my participation. He came here only to mine me for answers like I’m some civilian eyewitness to a crime. He’s still treating me like a traitor. Like anidiot. As if he wasn’t the one who taught me everything I know.
Excellent.
Really fucking excellent.
I pack up my sample kit immediately, snapping the clips shut in two satisfying motions. The wind batters my back and I welcome it. I feel suddenly hot, my head full of steam, but the adrenaline is somehow calming.
I stalk off without a word.
“Hey,” Kenji calls out. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
“I’d tell you,” I shout back, “but you don’t have the necessary security clearance to know.”
Kenji laughs, the sound colored with disbelief. “Are you joking? You can’t leave right now—We need your help—”
I keep walking, well aware I’m being immature, and too angry to care.
“James.” Warner doesn’t raise his voice, but somehow it carries.
I ignore him.
“James.”
I ignore him again.
