you mind if I come in?”
Zoe looked at him, uncomprehending for a moment. What was that tone? Was he mad at her? Amused? Disappointed? What? All she could hear was the sixty-one decibels, the sixteen words, the cadence and rhythm, the flow of syllables. But she stepped aside and gestured toward the sofa, and Maitland stepped past her with the air of a man taking care where he put his feet.
Not because he didn’t want to step on something important, mind. Because he didn’t want to dirty his shoes.
Maitland took a careful seat on the sofa as Zoe closed the door and followed him. She hesitated; since there was no one else who came to visit her here, she’d never seen the need to invest in an alternate form of seating. There was just the sofa, which meant she had to sit beside him—awkwardly inappropriate, and confusing, too, because which angle should she position her body at? She sat after a moment of hesitation and finally settled on a forty-five-degree angle: halfway between facing him and straight ahead.
“Agent Prime,” Maitland said again, as if he was speaking very carefully. “What happened yesterday?”
“Yesterday?” Zoe repeated dully. Her mind began to race back. Yesterday? What had she even done? Sat listlessly in front of the window, turned Dr. Applewhite away again, gone for a walk. Ah. The walk. Had Harry Rose made a complaint?
Maitland shifted his position, changing his angle more toward her. Zoe noted that his dark buzzcut was the same length as it always was, though there was more gray in it than she had noted last time she saw him. “Your suspension was over yesterday. I expected you to report for duty.”
“It was yesterday?” Zoe asked, turning over her mental calendar. Yes, she thought, it had been the right number of days. And that was a Wednesday, too, so she guessed it was the right date. She had missed it entirely.
“I sent you several emails to that effect,” Maitland said. His head moved, glancing around the apartment. Zoe noted the angle of his chin and knew what he was looking at: computer, turned off; cell phone, dead; landline, unplugged. “I also called you a number of times, and when I couldn’t get through, left you numerous voicemails.”
Zoe nodded slowly. On the beat, one, two, three. “I am sorry,” she said, though she didn’t particularly feel it. “I have not really been keeping up with my correspondence lately.”
Maitland sighed. “Look, Zoe, I know it’s been a tough couple of months for you,” he said. “I gave you a six-week suspension because I knew you would have to be on leave anyway. It’s mandated, when an agent loses their partner. Especially in the fashion that you did. Have you been seeing the counselor?”
Zoe shook her head slowly. On the beat, one, two, three. There was no point in lying. He could check the records. He probably already had. She hadn’t seen the point. She had her own shrink. Not that she’d seen her lately, either.
“Why not?” Maitland asked.
Zoe thought about the answer. She thought about it for too long. The seconds ticked by, three, four, five, and Maitland got impatient.
“All right, listen to me,” he said, prompting Zoe’s eyes to meet his. She tried to focus on his words, not on the radius of his iris or how it changed when he twisted his head from side to side, the light hitting him differently. “The reason I’m here today is because I need to know what your intentions are. You’ve chosen not to return to work. Should I consider this to be your resignation?”
Zoe opened her mouth quickly, so that he would know she wanted to answer. It wasn’t a hard one to consider. “Yes,” she said, instantly. How could she ever consider going back? How could she walk through those halls without her former partner by her side? Before Shelley, everyone there had hated her. Turned their backs on her. Now that Shelley was gone, it would be even worse.
Maitland nodded slowly. Just like she had. On the beat, one, two, three. “All right,” he said. “If you’re sure. I’m going to need to see that in writing, though.”
Zoe glanced toward the computer and nodded mutely. She could type something up and send it to him. Get it done tomorrow.
Maitland began to stand, raising his huge frame with some care, obviously unwilling to hang around much longer. “Before you do write that letter of resignation, though,” he said, holding out