“Yeah. The one time they don’t, and the shit hits the fan.” Hazel stood up.
“Why didn’t Carmichael coordinate with the Chevets?” Newman asked.
“How am I supposed to know?”
“I thought you and he were serious about each other,” he said.
“We were. We are.” She said the last part fast, as if hoping we’d miss the grammar change.
Livingston asked, “Did you break up?”
“No,” Hazel said. She glanced behind her, and there were people at another booth trying to flag her down.
“You said you were serious, past tense,” I said.
“I said we are serious. Now, I have people waiting for their food and their tickets. My tips are getting smaller every minute.”
“Okay, Hazel. Thanks for talking to us,” Newman said.
Hazel hurried away to wait on other tables. When she was out of earshot, Kaitlin said, “I thought Hazel lied better than that.”
“She usually does,” Livingston said.
“Does she lie a lot?” I asked.
They both nodded. “She can put on a great act as a waitress. She can pretend to be sweet as honey while she’s trying for a bigger tip,” Kaitlin said.
“She’s a good waitress,” Livingston said, “but she’s lied to Pamela about why she’s late to work. Lied so well that Pamela believed her more than once, only to find out weeks or in one case months later that it wasn’t true.”
“She was hiding something,” Newman said.
“And hiding it badly,” I said.
“You say she is normally a very accomplished liar?” Olaf said.
“She can smile to a customer’s face so that they request her to wait on them next time, but behind the scenes she’s bitching about them the whole time. I’ve seen it. She’s not just a good liar. She’s good at hiding how she feels.”
“So why was she nervous and making mistakes today?” I asked.
“She was pretending,” Olaf said.
“Why pretend to be nervous?” Kaitlin asked.
“Lying to your boss about why you’re late to work is one thing,” Newman said. “Lying about a murder investigation is different.”
“You think she’s in over her head?” I asked.
“When I questioned Carmichael, he seemed genuinely torn up about Ray’s death and Bobby being under a death sentence,” Newman said.
“So what does his girlfriend have to hide?” I asked.
“I’ve seen true remorse in murderers before,” Livingston said.
“I don’t think Carmichael killed Ray,” Newman said.
“Did you get the feeling he was hiding anything?” I asked.
Newman shook his head. “No.”
I looked across the table at Livingston. “Is Carmichael a good liar?”
“I don’t know him as well as I know Hazel, but he’s always seemed pretty straightforward.”
“Honest, you mean?”
“Yes.”
“What is he doing with that woman?” Olaf asked.
“She’s twenty years younger than him,” Livingston said.
“So, he’s sixty-something?” I asked.
“No, fifty-something.”
“Okay, I give—how old is she?”
“Just turned thirty.”
I blinked at him. “I’m older than she is. I wouldn’t have called that.”
“Me either,” Kaitlin said. “I thought you were my age.”
“How old are you?”
“Twenty-five.”
I smiled and shook my head. “I’ve got you by seven years.”
“Wow, you’ve got to tell me your secret sometime. Please tell me it’s not an all-natural diet and virtuous living.”
I laughed. “Hardly. It’s part good genetics, part not smoking or drinking or partying. I burn in the sun and don’t tan worth a damn, so no tanning. And all my friends that are my age or older that hit the gym seriously are aging better than my friends that don’t exercise. I try to eat semihealthy, but I love fast-food burgers and French fries. I’m not giving them up until I have to.”
Kaitlin laughed. “Yay! I love fast food. How about junk food like chips and desserts?”
“I’m not big on snacks and sweets. Sorry.”
“I’ve seen your intended on TV, so I won’t ask about the virtuous living. If you’re abstaining from that gorgeous vampire, I don’t want to know, and if you’re having the wild and crazy sex that the Internet claims you are, then I don’t want to know that either. It’ll just make me jealous.” Kaitlin smiled when she said the last part, because she didn’t really mean it.
“This area is too rural and you’re too cute to have any problem getting dates.”
She grinned at me, tried to look modest, and failed. “I do all right on dating but finding someone to settle down with, that’s a different story. Like you said, the county is pretty rural, so a small dating pool means I can have my pick within reason, but finding ‘the one,’”—she made little air quotes around the phrase—“in the same small pool is harder.”
“I didn’t know you were looking for Mr. Right. I know a few fellows that are ready to settle down,” Livingston said. He smiled when he said it, like he didn’t think she’d take him up on it.
She laughed. “I’m not ready.”
“You were joking about being jealous of Anita and Jean-Claude,” Olaf said, and I couldn’t decide if he was stating a fact or admitting that he’d just figured out that she’d been teasing me.
“Yes. I’m happy if she’s ready to settle down, but I want to be able to date whoever I want, to be with whoever I want, to have fun with whoever I want.” Kaitlin took a sip of her coffee and gave him the full weight of her big gray-blue eyes over the rim of the mug.
If I hadn’t been sitting right beside Olaf, I might have missed the extent of the look, but I saw it and I knew he had to have seen it. I was happy all over again that Kaitlin wasn’t his type. I liked her, and it would suck to have to protect her from the big guy. I had enough trouble protecting my own boundaries from him. As if the thought had caused it to happen, I felt a hand on my knee. I looked down, and there his hand was, having to maneuver around my holster and gun, but still that big hand cupped my knee like he had a right to touch me there.
I looked him in the eyes and didn’t even try to look friendly. My voice was low and careful as I said, “Move.”
He stared down at me with his cave-dark eyes, and for the first time, I wasn’t afraid. Part of it was being in public, but the other part was simply that I had to draw the line now, because he was one of those men who would keep pushing until I did. Whispers, threats, but he’d never just touched me like that before. It was a small thing. He hadn’t grabbed my breast or something. But to some men, if you don’t say no at a knee, they’ll take a breast or more the next time.
“Now,” I whispered because I didn’t want to humiliate him in front of our fellow officers. That would have been dangerous.
He moved his hand, and he wasn’t angry. He studied my face as if searching for a clue.
“Everything all right over there?” Livingston asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“We need to talk,” Olaf said.
“Yeah, we do.”
“Are you sure you’re all right?” Livingston asked.
“Otto and I just need a minute,” I said. I gave a pushing motion, and Olaf slid out of the booth while I scooted out after him.
“The porch out front is good for privacy,” Newman said.
The porch was where a lot of the customers waiting for tables were sitting. We could find a private corner to talk, but we’d be surrounded by people. The fact that Newman had suggested it meant he knew something was up between Olaf and me. He gave me a very serious look, and his hea
d was turned so that Livingston and Kaitlin couldn’t see. I realized he’d seen Olaf put his hand on me. In that moment I wasn’t unhappy he’d seen it. Now I could tell him the same cover story that Edward had told a fellow cop at his wedding when I’d been best man/person: Olaf had a crush on me and was starting not to take no for an answer. So Edward had pretended to be my boyfriend even in front of other cops to back Olaf off. It had been half true; the only lie was that Edward and I had ever been more than just best friends. I didn’t want Newman playing white knight for me, but him helping me not be alone with Olaf would be helpful until Edward got here.
But right now I was going to lay down some ground rules for the big man. He wanted to try to date me. The fact that it would be a cold day in hell before I actually let him date me was beside the point. If he was serious, then he needed to understand basic consent. You didn’t get to touch me anywhere unless you asked first, and I had to agree to the touch. Then and only then could you do it. I was about to try to teach a sexual sadist and serial killer about asking before he touched a woman. Since his idea of a great date up to this point had been kidnap, torture, and rape, I wasn’t sure how he’d take the lesson, and worse, I was beginning not to care. He had done far scarier things before, but for some reason, his touching me under the table like he was my boyfriend with other cops sitting right there had just pissed me off.
33
WE WENT TO stand at the end of the porch far enough away from the screaming toddlers and the families dressed like they’d just come from church. Newman, Livingston, and Kaitlin stayed on the other end of the porch so we’d have privacy, but they were watching us, so we’d have to be careful of what we let them see, and there would be no shouting.
“There is no fear in you, just anger. Why?” Olaf asked.
“Why am I angry? Or why am I not afraid?”
“Both.”
“Look, if you really mean it that I’m . . . the Woman for you, that I’m your Irenie, or whatever, you need to understand the basics of consent.”
“I touched your knee. That is not a sexual area.”
“The fuck it’s not,” I said, lowering my voice as I saw a toddler race past us with a harassed woman chasing him. “If I let you touch me someplace that isn’t technically an erogenous zone, then you’ll touch me again without my permission, and maybe next time, it will be somewhere that’s more sexual. I learned a long time ago with men that I have to draw the line early on, or they just keep pushing.”
“It was not a big deal.”
“It’s my body, so if you want to touch me anywhere, then you need to ask me first, and I have to say yes.”
He stared at me. “You are joking.”
“No, I’m not. Jean-Claude had to learn to keep his hands to himself, too.”
“He had to ask permission to touch you?”
“When we first started out, yes. I’m a little confused on boundaries with some people because of the metaphysics involved, but if I have a choice, I go slow. Besides, Newman saw you, and the other two knew something happened.”
“If you had not reacted to it, they would not have known.”
“Maybe, but I’m not going to sit quietly like a good little girl while anyone touches me without my permission. Anyone in my life has to earn the right to touch me.”
“But you do not have to earn the right to touch me. Women can do anything to a man, and we are just supposed to be flattered at the attention.”
“No, that’s not right either.”
“Am I wrong about everything?” He was starting to be angry now.
“No. I mean, it’s not fair. It’s a double standard that women can grope men and not be in trouble, but men get in trouble in the reverse. I think everyone should keep their hands to themselves until they have the other person’s consent. It’s about mutual respect of one another’s bodies and personal space.”
“I would not mind if you touched my knee.”
“Even if we were to the point of casual touch like that, I wouldn’t do it at a business breakfast with other cops.”
“So your objection is that it was unprofessional?”
“Part of it, yes.”
“I am sorry if it was unprofessional.”
I’d been ready to start yelling, but his apology caught me off guard. “If you don’t do it again, then I accept your apology, and thank you for saying it.”
“You are welcome, Anita. You know I do not understand consent.”
“I think you understand it, Ol . . . Otto. You just ignored it until now.”
He seemed to think that over and finally nodded. “I will accept that. I did not care about a woman’s consent, because it wasn’t necessary.”
“You took what you wanted,” I said.
He nodded. “I do not want to take from you, Anita.”
“Then that means I need to offer it. Personal intimacy is like a gift that you give each other. Does that make any sense to you?”
“I think I understand what you mean.”
“Good,” I said.
Olaf leaned in close and smelled my hair like he had over at the sheriff’s office, but I wasn’t afraid this time. I don’t know if it was the bright sunlight and the crowd of families with kids, or other cops being nearby, or maybe I was just done with being scared of him.
“You do not smell like fear now. Do you think you’ve tamed me?”
“No, never. You are what you’ve always been: a big, dangerous predator. Do your preferences toward women scare me? Yes, but you keep saying you want to date me or have a relationship with me. I finally realized when you touched me in there that I’ve been so busy treating you like the big bad wolf that I haven’t taken the time to tell you any of my preferences. If this is supposed to be some kind of relationship, then you need to know my dating rules, just like I need to know yours.”
“I do not think I have dating rules, since I have never truly dated anyone.”
“Fair enough, but since I’ve dated more people than you have, maybe it’s my job to help you figure out your dating rules.”
He took in a deep breath and let it out slow. “Dating you is going to be difficult.”
“You aren’t the first person to say that.”
“Dating me is far more than just difficult, Anita.”
“Yeah, I know it’s potentially life-threatening.”
“Yes,” he said, face solemn, as if the answer made him sad.
“Just promise me one thing.”
“What?” he asked.
“If you realize you can’t fight your serial killer urges when it comes to me, warn me.”
“I will give you my word, if you will give me your word on something else.”
“What?” I asked.
“That you will truly give me a chance to date you.”
“Maybe we should figure out what dating means to us before I give my word. I’d hate to promise something and then find out that you meant something very different.”
“That is both fair and logical,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“Then first we need to define what dating means to me,” he said.
“Just you?” I asked.
“You know what dating means for you, because you’ve done it. I have not dated in any way that you would approve of for yourself.”
“You’ve never taken a woman out to dinner or a movie or anything, not ever?”
“I’ve only done that if I was pretending to be someone else and the woman was necessary to maintain my cover.”
“I keep forgetting that you and Ted used to be in the same business.” In my head, I thought of them as supersecret assassins.
“We still are.”
“Okay, so then we have to figure out what dating really means for you.”
“How do I do that?”
; “Figure out what you enjoy doing that someone else could do with you.”
“Something that we would both enjoy?” he asked.
“Preferably, yes.”
He nodded again. “I will think on it.”
“Good. Now let’s join the others and get back to work.”
“I enjoy killing people with you. Could that count as a date?”
I shook my head. “No, nothing illegal counts.”
He sighed. “Dating is harder than I thought it would be.”
“Always,” I said.
34
NEWMAN TOLD OLAF that he wanted to ask my advice about his fiancée and combining his career with a serious relationship. He even had a lead-in question ready to go, as if that was the only reason he wanted some private time with me.
“I mean, how do you get your fiancés to be okay with you spending so much time in the gym every week?”
“They work out with me or are doing their own workouts while I do mine.”
“Simple,” he said, “but I’d like to pick your brain about a few other things.”
“Sure,” I said.
“Jeffries, if you wouldn’t mind riding back with Livingston and Kaitlin, I’ll do the couple talk in the car, and that way, when we get back to the sheriff’s station, we’ll be ready to work.”
Olaf was suspicious and not particularly happy about it, but Newman just vibrated with sincerity, so in the end, he rode with the state cops and I got into the car with Newman. He smiled and was perfectly normal until he saw them go out of sight; then he turned to me. He wasn’t smiling anymore.
“What do you really want to talk about?” I asked him.
“I saw Jeffries touch your leg at breakfast.”
“I thought you did.”
“You told him to move it, and he did.”
“Yep.”
“Normally I’d leave it alone. I mean, I know you’re not monogamous, and you handled it at breakfast.”
“I hear a but coming,” I said.
“But you didn’t like him touching you, and there’s some tension between the two of you that seems to get worse every time I see you together.”
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