“You’ll wake up shaped like a question mark.”
“I’ve slept in worse.”
“Was it voluntary, or did another woman make you chase her into the woods first?”
I drank water and leaned back against the dresser. “You ask a lot of questions for someone avoiding mine.”
Her pretzel bag crackled. “Maybe your questions lack charm.”
“Why’d you run?”
The question cut the humor clean out of her face.
Her fingers stopped inside the bag, and her chin angled down half an inch before she lifted it again.
“There it is,” she said.
“It’s a simple question.”
“Simple questions are where men hide traps.”
“I’m not hiding anything.”
“Congratulations. You’re one of us.”
I let the silence hold. Not as a trick. She’d fill it if she wanted to. She’d fight it if she didn’t.
Crystal set the pretzels aside. “I told you. I didn’t do what they said.”
“Who’s they?”
“The people with better paperwork.”
“Names help.”
“Names get people killed.”
Her fingers dug once into the coverlet beside her knee before she made them go flat again.
I crossed my arms. “You’re saying somebody framed you.”
“I’m saying I didn’t steal from anyone.”
“Then why miss court?”
Her laugh came out without humor. “Because courtrooms are famously excellent at stopping bad men before breakfast.”
The back of my neck tightened.
That wasn’t the answer of a woman trying to duck a theft charge because she wanted a head start. That was the answer of a woman who’d learned the official doors didn’t always open fast enough.
“Bad men,” I said.
Her eyes met mine, bright under the lamp, and her chin lifted another fraction. “Don’t start looking useful now.”
“I’m useful.”
“You’re a man with a badge-shaped job and a motel key.”
