“It is,” I lied again.
“It isn’t,” he returned.
I stopped clutching his shirt and pushed against his hard chest.
“Really, Mitch, I have to go,” I told him.
“Where?”
“I need to pick something up.”
“What?”
I stopped pushing and glared at him, beginning to lose my temper mainly because the gruff voiced guy said Billy and Billie were hungry.
“Would you let me go? I’ve got to be somewhere.”
“I’ll let you go when you tell me where you’ve got to be and why your face is pale and you look freaked.”
I lost a bit more of my temper. “It’s none of your business,” I said. “Really, let me go.”
His arm gave me a squeeze and his face changed from looking kind of curious and definitely alert to still definitely alert and kind of pissed.
“Four years, I see you and every time I see you, you’re in your own world. Goin’ to work, comin’ home with groceries or from the mall. You’re never in a rush but you’re always in your head and I can see that’s a decent place to be.”
I blinked at him, shocked he paid that much attention.
“Now you’re sprinting down the stairs, not lookin’ where you’re goin’ when you’re always careful to look where you’re goin’ and you’re in your head but wherever you are in there, it is far from a decent place to be.” I was still staring up at him but now unblinking and I felt my lips had parted. He went on, “You got a problem?”
“I –” I started to lie but stopped when his arm gave me another squeeze, pressing the breath out of me.
“And don’t lie,” he warned.
I took in a breath. Then I thought of the kids. Then I decided I probably shouldn’t lie because clearly, I was right about police detectives. Even though he didn’t know me, he had finely honed skills where he could totally figure me out and know when I was lying. He wasn’t going to let me go until I told him the truth. And I needed him to let me go for a variety of reasons.
“Family problems,” I explained honestly.
“Bad?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Annoying.”
That was a fib rather than a lie since I wasn’t certain it was bad. I just figured it was getting there.
“You need me to come with you?” he offered.
“No!” I blurted too fast and too loudly and on a desperate pull against his arm that made him give me another squeeze keeping me right where I was.
When I calmed enough to register the look on his face I realized my mistake. I should have kept cool and paid attention to him. Close attention. For he still looked very alert, he now looked very pissed and he’d added a narrow-eyed, alert, angry disbelief which I knew for sure was not a good addition.
“Now, sweetheart,” he said in a soft, dangerous voice, “I’m thinkin’ you just lied to me.”
Oh boy.
Mental note: if given the chance again, never but never lie to Detective Mitch Lawson.
“Not really,” I evaded (not a lie). “This happens sometimes.”
“What happens?” he asked and I figured he was good at his job, especially in the interrogation rooms.