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“Then I know a place.” It’s as simple as that for Naomi, it seems. “Is this a secure line?”
“Safe enough.”
Naomi rattles off an address I commit to memory, and I click off without saying anything else and drop the phone, sliding one hand up to cover the ones Aria has clasped around my front. “You heard it all?”
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about. All I got out of the conversation is this—Detective Bishop has friends.” The smile in her voice warms my heart.
I scoff and rise, taking her with me. Her body hangs limp against my back before she slides down on her own two feet. “I wouldn’t go so far as to call any of them friends.”
“But you trust your new partner enough to take a risk in meeting her. Even though she knew about our meeting yesterday.”
We both go still, and I’m the first one to break, to exhale long and slow, before saying, “I guess I do. I wish I knew why, though. She’s a real pain in my ass and way too chipper for her own good.”
“It’s calledhealing. Apparently, you’ve beat yourself up enough over the last few years. Time for you to start shaking your guilt. Time to let go.”
I shake my head instead. “Letting go is harder than almost anything,” I tell her.
“Almost as hard as being patient. Except both of those things are necessary. We both have a lot of letting go to do, a lot of patience to master,” she continues, squeezing me once before she steps back.
I say nothing, and we’re both silent as we settle into the car. It starts after a few tries, the air frigid and damp, holding a hint of a threat of early winter weather. The trees rattle ominously, but the sky overhead is clear enough. Aria shivers in the passenger seat while we wait for the engine to warm enough to stop clinking. We’re on the road within fifteen minutes of leaving the cabin, and I have to remind myself to send a message to the senator down the line. To explain the usage of the cabin should anyone come out and find the door broken, the sheets on the bed stained with echoes of our lovemaking.
That part I’ll keep to myself, of course.
The silence between us is heavy and weighted, but neither one of us has anything constructive to say. Not until the city skyline appears in the distance, spearing into the blue sky like spears of ice. Too stubborn to melt despite the sun’s light.
“What are you going to say to your friends?” Aria asks suddenly. “About me? They already know I’m involved because they found my car.”
I take a beat before saying, “What do you want me to say to them?” I’d rather leave it up to her and lessen the risk of saying something wrong. Knowing me, I’ll put my foot in my mouth and ruin any chance of future cooperation on any level.
“I don’t want them to treat me like a freak. And I don’t want to be hidden in the shadows. Never again.” Aria worries her hands. “I just…they’re going to know we’re involved, Devan. I’d rather be open about it, without shame, than make up some excuse everyone sees through and embarrass myself.”
I don’t blame her one bit. And the Scooby Gang is incredibly observant, even Bill. They’re all going to know Aria and I are together.
“I’ll tell them you are an incredible hacker, and this case is about to blow wide open from your help,” I reply.
“...Anything else?”
I glance at her from the corner of my eyes. “I’m not sure what you want me to say. If you’ve got any pointers, I’ll be glad to hear them rather than playing any kind of guessing game. I’m not really operating at one hundred percent right now.”
And it kills me to admit it.
Her eyes sparkle with mischief when I glance over. “Oh, come on. You’re a detective. You can put the pieces together. You know what I’m trying to say.”
“The less anyone knows about you, about us, the better we’ll be. This is about Broderick and his trafficking,” I remind her. “Let’s not plan ahead for answers to questions we haven’t been asked yet.”
“You trust them enough to meet them today.”
“It’s a calculated risk.”
She settles back in her seat. “Fine.”
There’s a world of meaning in the word, and I’m too exhausted to play games right now. “That’s the worst thing to say, and you know it,” I reply. “It can mean so many different things.”
“Once again, it’s up to you to put the pieces together.”
“Which is only going to piss me off.” My fingers tighten around the steering wheel.
Soon, the trees are beaten back by the sprawl of life, and the space between houses diminishes. The city looms up ahead of us, and the traffic on the road increases. Finding the address without GPS is a bit of a struggle.
