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This earns a chuckle, followed by a quick sobering. “I hear you, man, I do, but…I’m sure glad Avery didn’t take that approach with me.”
Huh. “That’s you and Avery. Hollie and I are a different story.”
“Sure. I got ya. That’s why you can’t sit still and talking about her has you about to destroy another pen.”
The pen clatters and I jab the air with my finger. “You got a smart mouth, you know that? I’m telling you, Hollie may be gorgeous, but she’s too sweet for me—and I know better this time around.” Deann’s literal crazy inoculated me against heart weaknesses.
“Look, I don’t mean to get in your business—”
“That’s a good one.”
He leans onto the desk and into my space. “I’m only going to say this, John. Sometimes, you meet someone…and there’s no going back.”
∞∞∞
Walker’s on the naughty list. Who needs his meddling and so-called wisdom? He says stupid stuff on subjects he knows nothing of.
Sometimes there’s no going back.
Loser.
I got enough trouble without his not-as-profound-as-he-thinks words battering my brain all day long. Enough work, too. Got two of my newest undercover guys down on the border cruising for trouble and on the cusp of requiring an extraction. Man, this would be a lousy time for an out-of-towner. Hollie—
From here on out, Hollie’s life is none of my concern.
Speaking of.
I push away from my desk for the first time in hours. Lunch? What’s that but a ship that sailed hours ago?
The hall is quiet as I traverse the long corridor toward Walker’s office. All that gabbing this morning and we never discussed important stuff.
Aside from being half the size, his office is set up differently than mine. When he shifted from fieldwork, he set up his desk to face the—much smaller, thank you—window.
“Hey, got a question.” When he turns, I notice a snapshot of his son or daughter taped to the rim of his computer monitor. Has he told me which? The photo isn’t the grainy black and white kind Deann and I were given—this one is a grainy color version. Still not super clear, although some of the kid’s features are fairly distinct.
He rocks back in his chair. “What’s up?”
“Hey, how come your chair doesn’t squeal like mine? I told maintenance five times to oil it.”
Tripp smirks. “I asked nicely.”
Has Walker always been this obnoxious? “So. Any word on the kid’s case? I’m getting nada from the local PD.”
“Hollie’sson, you mean?”
As if he doesn’t know who I’ve come crawling down here to ask about. “Wipe that look off your face before I do it for you.”
His smirk becomes a slightly less irritating grin. “Whatever you say, boss.” He motions to the lone chair. “Take a load off.”
“I won’t be here long.”
The way he shakes his head makes me feel small, so I wedge myself into the chair. “Go on.”
Locking his hands behind his head, he kicks back. “Now that you’ve gone to all the bother of sitting, I hate to tell you that I still got nothing. I was hoping for a callback today on some feelers I put out, but so far, I’m coming up empty.” He shrugs. “You know, Carpenter’s case is probably exactly what it looks like. A naïve kid who got caught up in some smalltime dealer’s junk. Probably knew what he was doing, too.”
Ah-hah. I knew I wasn’t the only cynic around here. My hand creates a scratching sound along my chin. “Yeah, I know, but I was hoping…”
He sits forward. “I did have one last idea—but it would involve bringing someone else into the mix.”
