Still, Cloister did have a tentative list of possibilities as he got to the top of the stairs.
None of them were there.
In fact, as Cloister stared at the slight sandy-haired man, wiry and nondescript in chinos and a blue collared shirt, enjoying a coffee on the step of Cloister’s trailer, he still had no idea who hewas.
Chapter Six
“I’dofferyouacoffee,” Cloister said.He paused as he gestured at the cup currently in use.“But…”
SSA Everett Kincaid looked pleased at the recognition of his microaggression.He sat on the step, a slight, blondish man in a polo shirt and chinos with his gun visible at his belt, and took a drink and smiled at Cloister over the chipped rim.
“I wasn’t sure how long…whatever that was would be,” he said, with a quirked eyebrow and a nod toward the beach.“It looked painful.”
“It was,” Cloister said.“That’s the point of running.”
“Most people just do it to get where they’re going,” Kincaid remarked.He squinted, lines creasing around light brown eyes, as he looked at Cloister.“It seems like someone who runs like you has more of a reason behind it.”
Cloister stripped his sweaty T-shirt off and wiped the back of his neck with it.
“I’m a K-9 cop,” he pointed out.He nodded down at Bourneville, who lay in a perfectly still “down” at his feet, her eyes still trained suspiciously on Kincaid.“I need to be able to keep up with her.”
Kincaid blinked.He fidgeted with the mug he held, turning it restively in his hand.His smile faded.
“You don’t like me,” he said as if he’d only just noticed.“I get it.You and Javier are dating, and I’m the…fly in the ointment.”
Cloister thought about that for a bit.“That’s pretty much it,” he said and took a step toward Kincaid.If hehadbeen underestimating Kincaid, he’d have realized his mistake then.The man shot to his feet, but his gaze went to Bon as the danger first before he looked at Cloister.“Excuse me.”
Kincaid stepped to the side.
Cloister went into the trailer.He closed the door over, leaving it open a crack, as he stripped off his running gear.It got kicked into the pile of washing, the trainers pulled off and given a once-over as Cloister tried to decide if the split sole could be patched, before Cloister went into the bathroom to give himself a quick wipe down.Just a pass of the washcloth to take off sand and sweat.His mom’s ghost chivvied at him to hurry up and be a good host, but he ignored that.
Guests were invited.No one had asked Kincaid over.
Once he was clean enough, Cloister pulled on sweat pants and his Sinner’s Gin T-shirt, the band logo faded to a cracked, peeling ghost on the front.As he grabbed a beer from the fridge, his eye fell on the stack of old case files he had on the floor.His light reading for when he couldn’t sleep, the missing cases that had fallen through the cracks.
Technically, he shouldn’t have them.No one cared, because they’d not cared when the cases were fresh, but still.
Cloister shoved the fridge shut with his elbow as he stared at the stack of manila folders.
They were where he’d left them, the same file was still on top, butsomethingthat Cloister couldn’t put his finger on said that Kincaid had thumbed through them.
That wasn’t ideal information for him to have.
Cloister popped the cap off the beer against the counter.He swept the metal disc up and tossed it into his bin as he went back outside.
Kincaid was still there, perched on the step of the trailer while Bourneville stared at him.He didn’t move.Cloister just stepped around him and jumped down to the ground.He got a twitch of Bon’s ear in acknowledgement, but she kept her attention on Kincaid.
“Go through my underwear too?”Cloister asked mildly.
Kincaid looked up at him, one eye squinted shut.
“Would that bother you?”he asked.
Cloister took a drink of beer.“Kinda,” he said.“But if you had, you’d know I don’t own any, so…”
He trailed off with a shrug.Kincaid choked on his coffee.He caught himself quickly and wiped the black liquid off his lip with his thumb.
“You are…” Kincaid stopped and tilted his head to the side.“…not what I expected.”
