“If it’s too personal, then you don’t have to answer.” He cleared his throat. “Your parents. What do they think about your job in law enforcement and about your working for us?”
I wasn’t expecting that question. “Didn’t you learn all about them during my security check?” My snark was in full force. It was getting harder to control. His questions weren’t really personal, but it threw me.
“Facts, stats.” He met my snark with his own. “I am asking you how they feel.”
“I don’t know how they feel.” I shrugged. “They love me. Hate what I do. Feel like I’m chasing a ghost. They wanted me to stay in North Carolina. Get married and give them grandchildren.”
My parents and I were cordial to each other. I don’t visit enough for my mom. My father and I keep our conversations surface level. He finds it hard to look at me because I look so much like my sister. His first born. I stay away because it’s easy for all of us to deal with. Especially when we still did not know what had happened to her.
“Have you always wanted to be in law enforcement, or was that in response to your sister going missing?” he asked between bites of chicken.
“I always wanted to help people and protect people, but wasn’t sure how.” He conjured up all my insecurities with a simple question. “When the FBI recruited me, they made a convincing argument. It’s nice for such a historic organization to admit they wanted me for my mind.”
“You have an interesting mind. Obviously you’re an intelligent w- …” He paused before finishing his sentence, “person.”
I finished the last bit of chicken on my plate and downed the rest of my water. My reprieve was over. It was time to get down to business.
“So, what now?”
Patrick stood and cleared off his desk. He dumped the containers in the trash. He took a paper napkin with the chicken place’s logo on it and wiped down the surface. I hadn’t noticed he was a clean freak. I watched him work, making sure his desk was back in order.
“Do you want to clean my sticky fingers, too?” I held them out. He stopped adjusting his laptop and stared at me. A weird twitch of his lip made my insides drop. Like he was thinking about it and really wanted to.
“You can use this.” He reached into the last of the bag and retrieved a wet wipe and tossed it in my direction. It skiddedacross the desktop. I stopped it before it fell, wiped my hands, and stood to discard it in the trash.
Instead of sitting behind the desk, Patrick sat next to me in the chair to my left. He angled himself in my direction. I mimicked his posture.
If I didn’t know any better, I would think Patrick was stalling. Like he didn’t want to do what he had to do. But I knew the outcome of my actions, and I knew he knew it too.
Why didn’t he get it over with already?
“Do you still believe Grant Enterprises is some criminal organization engaging in sex trafficking?”
“Not really.”
His eyes narrowed.
“I mean, no. I don’t think that, but I still have some questions.”
“Do you want to continue working here?” Something strange developed on his face. It almost looked like hope.
“I don’t think anyone wants me working here after what I did.” I sighed. “But the Dandridge news really makes me feel like I made a difference. You know how long it takes to act on a tip at the FBI? Months. My first genuine lead produced results, and I hope I get the chance to do it again.”
“That’s good to hear, but you did break the rules.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Well, around here, when someone breaks the rules, there are consequences.” He crossed his arms over his chest.
I swallowed. “What kind of consequences?”
“Well, obviously, they’re different depending on a person’s position.” The twitch on his lip became more pronounced. “Since I created your current position, there isn’t really a precedent for consequences for misbehavior.”
“You’re just making it up as you go along.”
“Exactly. So, I have a proposition for you.” He slapped his hands together.
I flinched. “What is it?”
