stuffed animals, yet you know precisely what is and is not a misdemeanor and what is and is not a felony in the state of Minnesota?”
“Whoa,” Garsea’s boyfriend said. He’d taken the seat furthest away from Lila and had spent the awkward chat glaring at Garsea, then Lila, then back at Garsea. He was as tall as Ox, but while Ox was all long legs and lean lines, Garsea’s boyfriend was a big guy with a blocky, muscular build, a shock of shaggy brown hair, and loads of dark stubble blooming along his jaw. He was wearing—hand to God!—a brown trench coat and took his coffee with a quarter cup of maple syrup. Or at least that’s what it looked like when he was slopping it in. When he spoke, his voice was a gruff baritone straight out of Central Casting for Grizzled P.I. “Nobody’s talking about felonies or jail.”
“Well,” Lila said, then munched another chocolate oatmeal cookie
(not defiled with raisins, excellent)
swallowed, sipped her milk. The silence got thicker and more awkward as they waited for her to finish chewing. “I’m talking about jail. Or are we sticking with the ridiculous fiction that this is all hypothetical?”
“Um…the last one?” Ox asked.
She almost smiled but caught herself. That’s how it is? No problem. “Well, while we’re not chitchatting about felonies and prison, it’s worth noting that footage of this hypothetical felony streamed to a hypothetical website, which is accessible to a hypothetical group who can view the hypothetical footage whenever they want.”
Another awkward silence. Lila’s favorite kind. She took another bite. She wasn’t especially hungry—she’d finished her lunch at Meritage—but it gave her something to do with her hands so she wouldn’t forget herself and fidget.
After a long moment, Garsea spoke up. “We understand if you want to call the police. But I’d respectfully ask that you don’t. It’ll make an already complicated situation even thornier. And I don’t know that you’d like the outcome.”
Lila laughed at her. Since when is “liking the outcome” relevant? “Jesus Christ, just stop dancing and out with it. What do you want with me? You have questions, I know you do. Just fucking ask already.”
Ox opened his mouth as if to answer, then closed it and looked at Garsea, who was looking out the kitchen window behind Lila. (Maybe at the fox? It had made itself scarce once Lila had put it down.) Garsea’s BF glowered and Mama Mac got up and cleared the cookie plate and napkins.
These people cannot possibly conduct interviews like this for a living. Am I going to have to get this going? Unbelievable.
“You want to talk about Sally?” she prompted. “Because we can talk about Sally. How’s she doing? Is she still insisting her folks are alive?”
“Yes,” Garsea replied. “That’s part of the reason I wanted to talk to you.”
“Is that why you set off my sprinkler and air horns and strobe flashes while I wasn’t home? So you could talk to me?” She didn’t use air quotes for “talk,” but assumed her intent came across.
Ox laughed, then shrugged apologetically when Garsea scowled at him.
“Touché,” she muttered. “On my way over here, I got a call from my partner. It seems a man identifying himself as Sally’s father called IPA.”
“Awkward,” Lila observed. “Did you tell him he was dead?”
“And,” Garsea continued, making a clear attempt to hold her temper, which was hilarious, “Sally must have spoken with him somehow, because…”
“Let me guess: you lost her again.” When no one said anything, Lila shook her head. “You guys suck at your jobs. You know that? Nobody gets to give this guy—” She jerked her thumb at a surprised Ox. “—any more grief about his job. He’s got the excuse of being new. You guys’ excuse is that you’re all terrible. Let me guess: If I see Sally, I should call IPA or drop back in here—”
“You don’t have to find Sally to come visit,” Mama Mac put in.
“Absolutely!” Ox added with alarming enthusiasm.
“—or, I dunno, bring her to IPA myself? Maybe that’s the best way to go about it. I’ll just do it myself, like the saying says.” She hoped Google Maps had an inkling of where IPA was. “Way more efficient, doncha think?”
“Ouch,” Ox said mildly.
Lila threw up her hands. “Or I could just adopt her. Sure, why not? There’d be loads of paperwork, but in the end, it’d probably be a time-saver.”
Nothing. Except for the curious fact that, suddenly, none of them could meet her gaze.
They were stuck, Lila