They were already walking away from Police Plaza, towards the Starbucks on Pearl Street, when Amy Houser told Travis she’d forgotten her cellphone.
‘I’ll meet you there,’ she said, and didn’t wait for his response. Travis stopped, watching her hurry back towards the ugly brown building, and then his eyes went from Houser to the thirteen floors of windows. He couldn’t see into any of them – but he wondered if someone inside was looking back.
‘What have you got yourself into, Amy?’ he said quietly.
A few minutes later, she made the call.
‘He’s arriving now,’ she said.
‘Okay,’ Hain responded. ‘You sure you got the guts to do this?’
There was no deference from him now. He still respected her, still owed her, but he was no longer a flunkey she could push around. Clearing up Axel’s mess had made certain of that: she needed him more than he needed her.
‘I can handle it,’ she said.
Travis entered Starbucks and stood at the end of the queue. There were five people ahead of him and the place was packed. He looked up at the menu: Houser would want a flat white with almond milk, and as he thought of that, as he thought of how well he knew Amy, or thought he did, how much he’d always liked her, a spear of pain bloomed under his ribs.
He didn’t want her to be involved in this.
He didn’t want her to be dirty.
‘Just get him to the parking garage,’ Hain said.
The line drifted as he spoke, the wind crackling at his end, and she could hear traffic. He was on the move, heading towards her car, as planned. She went over it again: she was going to have to persuade Travis to go with her, get him to believe there was something she needed to show him in the trunk. She’d have to pretend it was to do with Louise Mason or Rebekah Murphy. Whether he would trust her was another thing entirely.
He was on high alert, she could tell.
‘Are you there?’ Hain said. ‘Did you hear what I said?’
She’d almost forgotten about him.
‘Of course I heard,’ she said, trying to reassert some measure of control. ‘I’ll do my part. You make sure you do yours.’
She hung up and looked at Travis. He hadn’t seen her when he came in. She was partially hidden on one of the stools, her back to him, watching his reflection in the window.
She walked over and joined the queue behind him.
He still didn’t notice her.
She wondered what he was thinking about.
Maybe Louise. Maybe Rebekah.
Maybe Amy Houser.
Travis didn’t know she was there until she said hello.
When he turned, she was already smiling at him. It was warm today, but while Travis felt a little flushed after the walk in the sunshine, she looked immaculate in a navy-blue pant-suit and white blouse. Her hair, a striking silver-blonde, was tied in a ponytail and it showed off the angles of her face.
He looked at that smile again.
People always said she didn’t smile much.
But she always seemed to smile at Travis.
‘I didn’t see you there, Chief,’ Travis said.
Chief of Detectives Katherine McKenzie smiled again. ‘Oh, I think you can drop the “Chief” if we’re in Starbucks, Frank.’