She sat so still she barely breathed.
“I have eyes on the problem,” he said.
“That wasn’t my question.”
“It’s the answer I can give you right now.”
The warning in Annette’s voice sharpened.
“I’m not closing the recovery on bad facts.”
Annette exhaled. “You have until morning to bring me a cleaner answer. If I don’t hear from you by seven, I start making calls you won’t like.”
“Understood.”
“And do not turn an identification problem into a pride problem.”
Dex’s hand moved to the crucifix at his chest. The old silver shape pressed against black cotton under his fingers.
He stopped with his hand on the crucifix.
Then his hand dropped.
“I won’t,” he said.
The call ended.
Dex lowered the phone.
I faced him across the narrow room, past the scratched table and the cuffs lying cold in the sunlight.
“You lied to her.”
“I bought time.”
“That’s my line.”
“You stole my truck. I’m allowed to steal one thing back.”
Crystal made a small sound that almost became a laugh. It cracked halfway through and turned into a shaky breath.
Dex put his phone in his back pocket. “You need food.”
“I’m not hungry,” Crystal said.
“You’re shaking.”
“That’s fear.”
“Fear gets worse when you haven’t eaten.”
I stared at him.
His brow lifted. “What?”
“That was almost gentle.”
“It was practical.”
