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Authors: Jessica Andersen
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forced herself to continue, “And I fell for it, hook, line and sinker. Pathetic, really.”
If Gray had tried to soothe her, she would’ve shut down. If he’d tried to tell her she wasn’t pathetic at all when they both knew that she—or at least her actions back then—had been exactly that, she would’ve snapped at him. Instead, he sat in silence, watching her with cool gray eyes that she now suspected hid far more emotion than she’d initially given him credit for.
She hesitated, torn. Her inner loner said that the details weren’t pertinent to the case, that there was nothing between her and Gray except the investigation. But another, less familiar part of her wanted him to know about her past, wanted him to know her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking to get back from him—absolution, perhaps? Understanding? Or maybe just a moment of feeling as though she weren’t alone in this mess. She, who almost always wanted to be alone.
“My parents were roadies with a heavy-metal band when they met each other,” she said, still not entirely sure where the words were coming from, or whether telling him was such a good idea. “My mom was an artist—still is—and my dad was taking some time to ‘find himself’ after spending nearly a decade getting anadvanced degree in structural engineering. He was burned out, she was looking for something more in life…It was love at first sight, and they married and got pregnant within the year. As soon as I was old enough to travel, they went back out onto the road, sometimes crewing for bands, sometimes working carnivals, sometimes just driving their RV from place to place, picking up work where they could and experiencing life to the fullest.” She paused. “That was what they called it. Experiencing life.”
“What did you call it?”
“It was what I knew. I just called it life.” But when he just sat there, looking at her as though he knew that was an evasion, she said, “Okay, maybe I saw the kids who came to the carnivals, how they hung together and knew each other so well, and maybe I wished I could have that.” This time her pause was longer, as old resentments banged up against newer guilt. “Sometimes my parents were so wrapped up in each other, there didn’t seem to be room for me. They knew I wanted to stay in one place for a while and go to a real school rather than being homeschooled, but that wasn’t in their game plan. When they finally did decide to put down roots in Bear Claw, I was applying for college.” She lifted a shoulder. “My dorm room was the first place I’d ever stayed for more than a couple of months.”
“That must’ve been a big change,” Gray said.
His comment reminded her of something she’d noticed about him before, back during the first two investigations. He didn’t ask questions as much as prompt with comments, and then let the silence hang betweenthem until the other person filled the airspace. Before, the tactic had grated on her, making her feel as though he considered himself the maestro, that he had only to gesture and his suspect would tell all. Now, though, it felt different, more personal, as though he wanted to hear her life story. And yeah, he probably did. But was that because he hoped it would give him some new insight into Lee, or because he was interested in her for her own sake? Did he feel the faint hum in the air, the faint tingle of warmth that zinged from him to her and back again?
“You don’t want to hear this,” she said, going for practical rather than coy. “It has nothing to do with the case.”
He tipped his head slightly. “Like it or not, you’re part of the case, which makes everything about you relevant. Besides, we’re still trying to figure out what Lee and al-Jihad want from you. Any small detail could help.”
“I can’t imagine you’ll learn much hearing about my years of college angst.”
“You never know.” His voice and expression were impassive, giving away
If Gray had tried to soothe her, she would’ve shut down. If he’d tried to tell her she wasn’t pathetic at all when they both knew that she—or at least her actions back then—had been exactly that, she would’ve snapped at him. Instead, he sat in silence, watching her with cool gray eyes that she now suspected hid far more emotion than she’d initially given him credit for.
She hesitated, torn. Her inner loner said that the details weren’t pertinent to the case, that there was nothing between her and Gray except the investigation. But another, less familiar part of her wanted him to know about her past, wanted him to know her. She wasn’t sure what she was looking to get back from him—absolution, perhaps? Understanding? Or maybe just a moment of feeling as though she weren’t alone in this mess. She, who almost always wanted to be alone.
“My parents were roadies with a heavy-metal band when they met each other,” she said, still not entirely sure where the words were coming from, or whether telling him was such a good idea. “My mom was an artist—still is—and my dad was taking some time to ‘find himself’ after spending nearly a decade getting anadvanced degree in structural engineering. He was burned out, she was looking for something more in life…It was love at first sight, and they married and got pregnant within the year. As soon as I was old enough to travel, they went back out onto the road, sometimes crewing for bands, sometimes working carnivals, sometimes just driving their RV from place to place, picking up work where they could and experiencing life to the fullest.” She paused. “That was what they called it. Experiencing life.”
“What did you call it?”
“It was what I knew. I just called it life.” But when he just sat there, looking at her as though he knew that was an evasion, she said, “Okay, maybe I saw the kids who came to the carnivals, how they hung together and knew each other so well, and maybe I wished I could have that.” This time her pause was longer, as old resentments banged up against newer guilt. “Sometimes my parents were so wrapped up in each other, there didn’t seem to be room for me. They knew I wanted to stay in one place for a while and go to a real school rather than being homeschooled, but that wasn’t in their game plan. When they finally did decide to put down roots in Bear Claw, I was applying for college.” She lifted a shoulder. “My dorm room was the first place I’d ever stayed for more than a couple of months.”
“That must’ve been a big change,” Gray said.
His comment reminded her of something she’d noticed about him before, back during the first two investigations. He didn’t ask questions as much as prompt with comments, and then let the silence hang betweenthem until the other person filled the airspace. Before, the tactic had grated on her, making her feel as though he considered himself the maestro, that he had only to gesture and his suspect would tell all. Now, though, it felt different, more personal, as though he wanted to hear her life story. And yeah, he probably did. But was that because he hoped it would give him some new insight into Lee, or because he was interested in her for her own sake? Did he feel the faint hum in the air, the faint tingle of warmth that zinged from him to her and back again?
“You don’t want to hear this,” she said, going for practical rather than coy. “It has nothing to do with the case.”
He tipped his head slightly. “Like it or not, you’re part of the case, which makes everything about you relevant. Besides, we’re still trying to figure out what Lee and al-Jihad want from you. Any small detail could help.”
“I can’t imagine you’ll learn much hearing about my years of college angst.”
“You never know.” His voice and expression were impassive, giving away
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