“I think it's a little too late for that.”
“Fair point.”
They looked at each other. Something passed between them—some of all that Dustin could not put in words. That he forgave her. That he didn't. That he understood. That he didn't. That he loved her so much it felt like his ribs were too small to hold it and he was angry and grateful and terrified and sorry, so sorry, for every phone call he'd cut short.
The feeling seemed mutual.
“Sit down,” Cathy said. “Drink your coffee before it gets cold.”
Dustin pulled out Tyler's chair and sat in it.
Cathy's mug paused halfway to her mouth. She looked at him in the chair, and something moved across her face that was too quick and too raw to name.
She didn't say anything.
They drank their coffee, and the kitchen clock ticked, and for the first time in three years the silence between them wasn't empty.
It was just quiet.
CHAPTER 30
The key to not getting caught was to act natural.
People who belonged didn't look over their shoulders or press themselves against walls or hold their clipboards at strange angles.
And yet, Greg was doing all three of these things.
He couldn't help it. Every sound in the corridor made his shoulders climb toward his ears. Even the buzzing of the overhead lights seemed louder than usual, as though the building itself knew he was here for the wrong reasons and was trying to alert someone.
But it was fine.
He was fine.
He had a reason for being here. Morrith had told him to investigate, and he was investigating. The fact that he was investigating at 11 p.m. when the office was mostly empty was simply because he was... diligent. Thorough. A dedicated employee who didn't limit his work to business hours.
Nobody would question that.
Nobody was even here to question it. Another departmentwas responsible for night-time deaths, and so all the cubicles were empty, the break room was dark, and the only sound besides Greg's own treacherous footsteps was someone in Accounting doing whatever Accounting did at this hour.
Greg didn't want to know what Accounting did at this hour.
He turned left at the end of the main corridor. Then right. Then left again. Each turn took him farther from the parts of HQ he knew. The carpet got thinner. Greg walked past a bulletin board that displayed a memo about a filing protocol change dated fourteen years ago that had apparently never been taken down or, more likely, never been read in the first place.
He walked past doors with interesting labels like Spectral Disputes. Threshold Maintenance. Liminal Property Management.
He stopped in front of the one that read: RECORDS — INTERDEPARTMENTAL CASES.
Underneath, in smaller letters: Authorized Personnel Only.
Greg stared at the sign.
Authorized personnel.
Was he authorized personnel?
Morrith had authorized him to investigate. That was essentially the same thing. He had a clipboard.
Maybe he could hold it more authoritatively. He shifted his grip and tried a firmer angle. No, now he just looked like he was offering someone an award.
