“Hey,” she said.
“Morning. Sleep okay?” He turned, frying pan in hand, went to the table, and lowered his gaze, focusing on the food as he slid portions of omelet onto two plates. Anxiety trickled instantly into Angie—he was avoiding her gaze.
“Yeah, fine,” she lied. Her night had been tormented with dreams awoken deep in that place Alex had taken her.
“Grub’s up,” he said, taking a bench on one side of the table. He finally looked up and grinned. “My dad always used to say that. Come, sit. Eat while it’s warm.”
She remained standing, watching his face. His grin did not reach into his eyes. He wore jeans. Nice shirt. No tie. He was dressed for work, but a little more casual. She realized it was Sunday.
“Maddocks—”
“Sit,” he repeated, pouring two mugs of coffee. Then, as if catching himself, he looked up again and said, “You doing okay this morning?”
“Peachy. You?”
His hand stilled. His smile sobered.
“We need to talk,” she said quietly.
“I know. While we eat.” His glance flicked to his watch, and he reached for his knife and fork.
Slowly, she seated herself opposite him. “You’re going to work,” she said. “You’re watching the clock. Something’s up with the case—you’re anxious to get in there.” She felt left behind—a gap yawing open. A sickish feeling filled it.
“Yeah.” He reached for his mug, took a gulp of coffee, then cut into his food and delivered a forkful to his mouth. “Jayden Norton-Wells voluntarily gave a DNA sample late yesterday. Sunni said she’d have the profile for us this morning.”
She stared.“What?”
“Eat,” he said, motioning with his chin toward her plate.
“Why? Am I in a rush, too? Am I coming in with you—Maddocks?”
Carefully, slowly, he set down his knife and fork. He met her eyes. Lines furrowed into his brow and bracketed his mouth—an inner struggle evident in the tightness of his features.
“You’re avoiding it. Me. This fucking elephant in the room ... and you’re scaring me, because I haven’t seen you like this. I thought you were someone who hit things head-on, said things like they were. We’ve got shit to talk about.”
“I ... I’m sorry, Angie. I ...” He inhaled deeply. Wind rocked the boat. “I don’t know how to do this, either,” he said finally. “I haven’t been here before. I ... I want to be there for you, and I’m ...”
“Struggling with what to do with me? You’ve taken possession of my weapons. You know stuff about my state of mind that youshouldtell your superiors. We’ve slept together. Partners. And I’ve been accused of killing partners before, haven’t I? Is that what they said back at the station? Whatdidyou tell them about your nose? About me? What did Leo and Holgersen and everyone say when I didn’t show up? They shred me apart like jackals the first opportunity they had?” Her voice was going tight, her eyes burning. The crap thing about this metaphorical lava shit coming out her consciousness cracks was that it was making herfeel. It was making hervulnerable. It was making herneedhis approval. His faith. His belief in her. And yeah, while she’d tasted vulnerability and submission last night, and it was a wonderful and shimmering and fragile thing—she didn’t know if she could do this full-time. She felt herself beginning to close as she looked at him.
“I hate it,” she said. “I fucking hate needing anything from anyone. I don’t need you—I’m sorry I put you in this position ... it’s not fair, I know.” She started to get up. “It’s best if I take myself—”
His hand, big and warm, clamped over hers. “Angie.”
Thump thump thumpwent her heart. She could hear her own blood beating. Could hear the chinking of halyards against masts in the wind outside. Could hear the slap of water against the hull. A sense of time pressed down. Past. Present. Future ... uncertain.
“Just say it, Maddocks,” she said quietly. “Bullet points, if you must—like I made my dad say it all. I can take it. I’d rather take it square, because I can’t stand it any other way—the guessing, the innuendo. The not knowing.”
His gaze lanced into hers. His features tightened further. Energy simmered off him in waves. He nodded, pushed his plate aside, heaved out a sigh, dragged his hand through his hair.
“Buziak is on leave pending outcome of the internal investigation.”
She blinked, then slowly reseated herself. “Go on.”
“I have no idea what they’ve got on him, but that news came down Friday. It’s why I decided, in part, to go after Norton-Wells for the voluntary sample.”
“Who’s in his place?”
Silence.
