Too Close To Home - By Maureen Tan Page 0,25

their car. So, business as usual. Until the Fishers called. And after that…” His shrug covered territory that didn’t need recapping. “Anyhow, when I finally left the scene and headed toward Maryville, I still figured I could make it back to my apartment, no problem. But I started drifting, closing my eyes just for a second or two, jerking awake, braking for deer that weren’t there…. You know the drill.”

I knew it only too well.

“You might be a cop if,” I said, “your favorite hallucinogen is exhaustion.”

“Good one. I’d say the caffeine is kicking in.”

“Speaking of, do you need a warm-up?”

“Yeah, that’d be great.”

In the midst of cooking, he’d parked his mug in an odd but momentarily convenient spot and forgotten about it. It was a habit that I’d always found entertaining. Now I suppressed my smile as he glanced away from the frying pan, his eyes darting around the room in a futile attempt to locate a mug that I’d spotted the moment I’d come into the kitchen.

I didn’t want to risk his burning the eggs, so I waited only another moment before laughing.

“Top of the fridge,” I said. “I’ll get it for you.”

I crossed the room, rescued his mug and poured us both a refill, then sat back down at the table and reminded him where we’d left our conversation.

“So you realized that, as tired as you were, the next accident scene you were going to visit was likely to be your own.”

“That’s about it,” Chad said as flipped off the gas flame beneath the skillet. “Your place was just down the road. I was going to call, but I realized what time it was and figured you’d be sound asleep. So I let myself in.”

He was in the process of splitting the eggs between two plates and paused, pan held midair, to turn his head and search my expression.

“I hope you don’t mind—”

I lifted my hand to stop the flow of his words. Now—away from my bed, stoked by caffeine, with the pale beginnings of dawn peeking through the yellow café curtains over the sink—I didn’t mind at all. In the morning light, a platonic relationship between ex-lovers seemed entirely possible.

“If I ever have a problem with it, I’ll let you know. Deal?”

“Deal.”

We’d had breakfast together often enough that the only question Chad needed to ask before filling our plates was how many pieces of French toast I wanted. Everything smelled wonderful and, though I hadn’t awakened with much of an appetite, my mouth was watering by the time he brought the food to the table. After a quick detour back to the counter for syrup and more coffee, he settled into the chair opposite me. For a time, we ate in companionable silence.

“So, did the state’s crime-scene techs tell you anything interesting about our victim?” I said finally. Then I grinned, suddenly realizing that I could tie the game. “You might be a cop if discussing skeletal remains over breakfast seems perfectly normal to you.”

Chad muttered, “Tie,” then shook his head. “They never showed up. One of them radioed and—after sounding surprised that we’d been competent enough to secure the scene—announced that they’d been rerouted to a murder-homicide in Effingham. They finished processing that scene, but decided to check in to a motel and get some sleep. They promised they’d be out our way sometime this morning.”

I sighed.

“I suppose old dry bones aren’t a priority compared to a couple of nice, juicy bodies.”

Chad agreed.

“The surprise, really, is that they are responding so quickly. A few more murders up north, and it could have been days.”

“Maybe it’s a blessing,” I said. “I don’t know about you, but I wasn’t looking forward to another long trek from the Fishers’ place. You want to take an early-morning hike with me? It shouldn’t take us long to find our way from Camp Cadiz to the scene. It’s relatively cool now, but the heat index is supposed to climb into the triple digits again. By noon, I’m sure we’ll all appreciate a more direct route.”

“I’ll take care of it, Brooke,” he said. “Alone. Okay?”

Odd, I thought. Not that Chad wasn’t capable of making his way safely to the scene now that it was daylight. But he’d always been an enthusiastic advocate of hiking with a partner, especially if you planned on straying from marked trails. Too easy to get hurt. Or simply disoriented. It was the kind of precaution that Chad and I often wished aloud that all backpackers would take.

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