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Rei
Icall her when I get back to the hotel. I probably shouldn't, considering that I think she's furious. I don't think Misha lied to me, since he seems quite upset himself. He’s quiet about it. As a rule, he doesn’t talk much. But I know him, and when he gets particularly quiet, something is on his mind.
The three of us hardly felt like talking. Even when cases are hard, we normally brief each other at the end. We ate mostly in silence instead, all of us exhausted. It was a long day, and I don’t think the days are going to get any shorter.
I remember looking up at Trine and watching Tom approach her in the dark room, his footsteps so light that he didn’t seem human. I can remember the way my breath caught in my throat. I should have stopped him before he got there but I could do nothing but stand there, glued in place. I don’t think that was supernatural interference. I think my natural tendency when I’m upset is to freeze, and that isn’t fucking helpful when someone’s trying to hurt a girl I like. Or, well, anyone, really.
Of course she's disappointed. I'm disappointed in myself. I wish I had done something before he got to her, but I was so shocked, I could hardly bring myself to get off the bed and stand, nevermind walk over to where she was.
His strength was supernatural. Perhaps adrenaline.
I don’t like it when these cases shake my sense of reality.
I expect that she'll send me to voicemail, but she answers in two rings instead. "Hello?" She says softly into the phone.
I hope I sound more confident than I feel. "Hey, Trine. Can we talk?"
A beat. She's thinking about it. "We’re already talking. If you have anything to say, say it."
Okay, so I probably don’t sound as confident as I want to. And Trine seems to be annoyed. I tell myself that it isn’t personal. I don’t know how long we’re going to stay here, but before we go back home, I really want to clear the air. "I would like to talk to you in person."
She sighs. "Why?"
"Because I have a lot of things to say to you, and from what Misha told me, you have a lot of questions," I say, pacing around the hotel room. I throw my jacket on the bed and watch it, wrinkled over the bed, the only splash of color in this sterile hotel room. I picture her on my bed, her hands and knees digging into the mattress under her, her moans so soft and quiet I can hardly hear her. Then I look away, walking to the bathroom so I can wash my face. I shouldn’t be thinking about her like that, no matter how fun it was. "So let's get together and talk."
She answers almost immediately that time. "And you'll be honest?"
"I have never lied to you. I've been honest about everything. I just haven't answered questions you haven't posed. And why would I? That seems inappropriate. Like it would hurt you, for no reason. And I don't want to hurt you "
She sighs again. She sounds very annoyed, but there's definitely a part of her that has softened. "You really didn't do this to hurt me?"
"Why would I hurt you?" I ask her, slumping down on the bed. I feel like a kid, my gaze settling on the plain ceiling above me. "I wouldn't do that. Not on purpose, anyway."
She groans. "Fine. I want to believe you," she says. "Tell you what. I’ll text you an address. You're buying me dinner."
I smile, relieved. "That seems fair."
—
Twenty minutes later, I'm on the sidewalk next to a sports bar, waiting for her outside. It doesn't seem like her scene, but I don't ask questions about it. People are watching games on the screen mounted outside, some of them cheering on sporadically. This crowd is rowdy. Maybe it is her scene, after all.
I watch the people inside until I see Trine walk toward me. Her long hair is up a high bun, and she's wearing black high rise jeans and a button up blouse that looks like it's too small for her. She's wearing the same jean jacket she wore the first time we met up for food, but her face is bare entirely, and there's no spark in her eyes.
She looks tired.
I feel bad for her. I regret calling her almost immediately, especially when she waves at me and cocks her head, playing with the choker she's wearing. Her neck is long and beautiful, and I could stare at her forever. But I realize I’m not a good influence, especially as she gets closer to me. When she speaks, she’s so quiet I can hardly hear her.
"Hi," she says, looking up to meet my eyes. "Hope you're hungry."
I take my glasses off to wipe them with my sleeve, though I know they’re immaculately clean. "I already ate, but I'm always up for dessert."
"We're not sleeping together."
I think she's joking. When I put my glasses back on, I can see that from the expression on her face, she's serious. I sigh, shaking my head. "No, no funny business. I'm only here to talk to you. I want…I really want to help you."
She raises her eyebrows as if she's challenging me, but she says nothing. The host tells us our table is ready, which interrupts the conversation, and we’re sat at a table by the window.
Trine spends forever looking at the menu, finally ordering something without making any comments about it. It's nothing like her. I can tell we're wearing her down. I'm not happy about it, but I don't think I can say anything that will put her at ease. Not without letting her have control of the conversation. So I wait, even though the silence is awkward, and I hate it.
