Page 44 of Flint’s Strike

You’re more patient than I’ll ever be.

Try it sometime. It’s surprisingly relaxing.

You could teach me. But I’d probably be terrible at it.

The dots bubble, stop, and start again.

I do have questions about the radioactive yarn behind it.

I was hoping you wouldn’t notice that.

Notice? Eliot, it’s glowing.

It’s worse in person.

That isn’t possible.

It is. Trust me.

So, you’re telling me your judgment was compromised when you picked it?

No. One of the women from the knitting circle forced it on me, then plied me with baked goods so I couldn’t say no.

That sounds like compromised judgment. Baked goods as blackmail?

Marlene isn’t someone you say no to. She has very strong opinions.

Do you usually lose battles over yarn?

No. This…was a first.

Watch out. You lose one argument, it’s a slippery slope to taking orders and setting up an Etsy shop. And those colors need a warning label about vision loss.

There’s a long pause, but the dots keep moving at the bottom of the screen.

I’m glad you sent this.

You asked for a picture. It’s just a blanket.

It’s not ‘just’ anything. It’s something you made.

I don’t have a response for that. I give the blankets away. I’ve never made one for myself. But I don’t say any of that.

I should go workout. When I start the neon blanket, there might be another picture.

That sounds like a threat. You know I’m authorized to arrest people, right?

If you arrest me, I can’t take you to dinner.

Fair point. But warn me first, okay?

Deal.

I keep my phone close as I change into a pair of basketball shorts and a t-shirt. This wasn’t the day I planned. Hell, I didn’t intend to see Parker at all. Most of my work with law enforcement happens over email. We’re rarely at scenes together, rarely working a case side by side. I take samples, interpret the scene, send over my evidence, and occasionally testify at trial.

So why have I suddenly started hand-delivering reports? With iced coffee, no less?

I don’t have an answer. Not one I’ll find by sitting on the edge of my bed staring at the pull up bar in the doorway.