"She is not back as a friend, Hale."
"No, Chief."
"She is back as the detective who looked me in the eye in November and told me she did not believe a word I said about the warehouse fire and who was right."
I am quiet.
"You hear me."
"Yes, Chief."
"Tuesday at ten."
"Yes, Chief."
"You will not be in that room without me knowing every word you are going to say."
"Yes, Chief."
"Hale."
"Chief."
"Is there anything you want to tell me before Tuesday?”
She is looking at me. Her eyes look like they are black.
She is looking at me with the look she used Wednesday morning. The look has another inch in it today. This look has Elise Warren in it.
I have one second to decide to tell the truth or to keep lying.
"No, Chief."
"All right."
She stands. She picks up the folder. She puts on her jacket. She does not look at me again.
"Drive me home," she says.
"Yes, Chief."
---
I drive her up to the house on Beech.
She does not speak in the truck. I do not speak in the truck. The radio is off. The heater is loud. She sits in the passenger seat with the folder on her lap and her hand flat on the folder, and she looks out the window, and she does not look at me.
I pull into her drive.
The porch light is on. It is on at eleven-fifteen in the morning because Lena leaves it on for her. The front door opens before Val is out of the truck. Lena is in the doorway in jeans and one of Val's sweaters, with a mug in her hand, with her hair down. She sees Val and her face does the thing her face does, which is a thing I have watched her face do for two years and which I do not have any envy about and which I am only now beginning to understand.
Val gets out.
Val stops at the bottom of the porch steps. She puts her hand on the rail. She turns back to the truck.
"Hale."
"Chief."
