Page 16 of Carter

“Oh, I’m good.”

“I’d feel better if you got something.”

“Why?” he asks with a frown, his hand on the back of the chair, ready to pull it out and sit.

“So I’m not eating alone.”

“Well, this isn’t a date—”

He looks like he regrets saying that, but then plops into the chair.

“Hot caramel latte. Glazed donut.”

I head over to put his order in and wait to get it, all the while keeping my eyes on him. He seems stressed, and I can’t be sure he won’t run. Not that I have any reason to chase after him, but I would.

I bring his things back to the table, setting them in front of him before taking my seat. We’re toward the back, in a corner. There are plenty of people taking up other seats, but they’re all too busy to pay attention to us.

He practically moans when he sips his latte, and then he notices me eyeing him.

“Sorry,” he says, pushing it away. “I usually get black coffee.”

“Why indulge today?” I ask.

Mostly because I’m struggling to read him. I think I know how he’ll react, then he throws a curve ball.

“Just feels like that kind of day.”

He doesn’t elaborate, and I don’t ask him to.

I take the lid off my coffee; the steam rising up. I let it cool for a bit and pull the top from my muffin to bite into it. Banana chocolate chip. I hate bananas, and I probably should have told the kid that, but I didn’t. So I’ll suck it up and eat it.

“So, how do we do this?” he asks, staring at the bag the donut is in. Something in his eyes tells me he wants it, but he won’t take it. And it’s not embarrassment or anything like that—it’s something else.

A punishment.

“Before we start, I need you to know something,” I begin.

He blinks, and then his eyes are on me. He leans back, reaching for his coffee and wrapping his hand around it, but nothing more.

“What’s that?”

“You don’t owe me anything.”

“Strange thing to say when you’re here to ask me questions that need answering.”

“I want to explain what’s going on. Next steps. Make sure you understand what the process is.”

“And then you’re going to ask me a million questions and make me relive the worst night of my life.” He smiles, but it isn’t a happy one. It’s forced. Bitter.

“Eventually? Yes. But not today. Maybe not the next time we meet either. That’s not how I work. I’m not here for numbers.”

He huffs a defeated sound, shaking his head. He finally takes the coffee to his lips and sips.

“Re-opening the case will give me more time to put into it. Resources too. Maybe other people, if I can prove that I need them. For now, it’s just me going over everything. Making notes. Building a case.”

He scoffs. “Shouldn’t take long.”

“Part of what I need to do is talk to the people who are part of the case.”