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“I know, which is why I’m here.” Andrea released the seat belt. “I know not everything is black and white in this world. I saw that even as a detective. But …” She stared at Clary. “I won’t ask questions when you don’t want to give me an answer, so I’m assuming I can walk away when I don’t feel comfortable taking part in whatever is going on, right?”
“Of course.”
“Then we’re good.”
Clary nodded.
“Here.” Andrea took out a black item from her bag. It looked somewhat like the controller of the bomb Gavin Ressler had made. “Take this.”
“What is this?”
“A taser.” Andrea showed Clary how to use it. “Put it in your bag. Leave your bag unzipped so you’ll have better access to it.”
“Did Seth have a talk with you?”
“He didn’t, and he doesn’t have to,” Andrea said in a serious tone, her voice slightly deeper than usual.
“Okay.” Clary reached for the door handle, and Andrea grabbed her arm.
“Clary,” Andrea continued in her serious voice. “I know you’re a nice person.”
“You’re making me nervous, Andrea.”
“Be alert.” Andrea glanced toward the café. “The café owner knows me, and I’ve already told her we’re meeting someone potentially dangerous. She has a taser on her too.”
“Okay.”
“If things go bad, you move behind me and stay behind me.”
“You’re not a detective anymore.”
“I learned combat skills. Did you?”
“Fine.”
Andrea nodded. “I wish I had my gun.”
“It won’t go bad. We’ll talk to him. If things get heated, we’ll de-escalate the situation.”
Andrea turned to face her. “That’s Plan A. Plan B …” She arched a brow.
“I get behind and stay behind you, and I’ll call nine-one-one.”
Andrea, who had her hand on the door handle, jerked her attention back to Clary. “Please don’t. Not unless it’s absolutely necessary. I don’t need my ex-colleagues coming in to save me.”
“Okay. No nine-one-one unless someone is dying.”
“Good. Let’s go meet the stalker.”
When they entered the café, the woman behind the counter locked eyes with Andrea. The woman beamed politely, then went back to work.
“Is she the owner?” Clary asked and sat where Andrea pointed.
Andrea had chosen a four-seater table in the middle of the café, and they sat side-by-side, facing the glass windows. “I’ll be right back.” She got up, and soon returned with two hot Americanos.
“Oh.”
“It’s not for drinking.”
