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“Thanks.”
She turned to Jason. “Sorry for the wait. Our bartender didn’t show up for her shift. What can I get you?”
“Sam Adams.”
“Were you going to order food?”
“Do you have some kind of salad?”
She laughed. “Uh, no. No salad. Fish and chips, burgers, or chicken wings.”
“Fish and chips.”
“Good choice.” She smiled and turned away.
Kennedy looked inquiringly at Jason.
“What?” Jason asked.
“Were you going to sit down, or are you planning to make a run for it?”
Jason laughed uncomfortably and sat down on the next stool. After a moment he said, “I talked to SAC Manning today.”
Kennedy took a large bite of cod. “Yeah?”
“I asked him to release me from this assignment. He said no.”
Kennedy gave a short laugh. “Are you kidding? You’re the only reason he can sleep at night.”
Funny. Almost the exact phrasing Manning had used.
Kennedy added dryly, “He’s pinning all his hopes on you and your little black notebook.”
“Do you think I’m keeping notes on you?”
Kennedy’s smile was crooked. “If you are, they ought to make for interesting reading.”
Jason looked away, his face warm.
“No,” Kennedy said. “I don’t think you’re keeping notes on me.” He swallowed the last wedge of fish and wiped his greasy fingers on his paper napkin. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really bothering you?”
“I just did.”
Kennedy finished with his napkin, balled it up, and dropped it on his plate. “No. You didn’t. Why did you feel the need to phone Manning?”
“I feel like I’m— I don’t feel like I’m—”
Kennedy was watching him with that alert blue gaze.
Profiling me, Jason thought wryly.
When he didn’t finish, Kennedy said, “You should have told Manning at the start you were too close to this case. That there was too much of a personal connection for you to be able to do your job.”
“What?” Jason stared. “That’s not true. Yes, there are some painful memories, maybe more than I expected, but I can do my job just fine.”
Kennedy gave a small laugh. “Okay. I agree. So what’s the problem, Jason?”
Jason.
