"Um."
"Not a word, detective."
"But-!"
"No buts either."
I huffed and crossed my arms. Why does she always have to be so damn enigmatic? Especially if her "residence" was as suspicious as this. There were books and magazines stacked everywhere in the tiny hotel room, all readings on criminal activity, and weirdly enough, safe manuals. Takeout boxes were scattered across the floor like landmines, and there was a large photo board on the floor with illegible notes scrawled across it in the corner. The photos made it clear that she was studying the Vadej case, which was good, but there were also strange references to a "Balmoral" and the writing was literally written in code. She was writing in code. A fucking code. Nothing written in code can ever be good. Holy shit is that a bloodstain. What is that? Who is she? God. I groaned and rubbed my temples, head spinning from far too much information processed in far too little time. I knew this case would be difficult, but having to figure out my accomplice too?
T. entered the room, shaking her hands nervously. "Don't poke around detective, you might not like what you find."
There she goes with the ~mystery~ again. I turned and glared at her. "Y'know, if I didn't know better T., I'd absolutely arrest you. This-" I gesture to the board, "-is ridiculous. Why is it in code? And what the fuck is "Balmoral"?"
T.'s expression went blank as she smiled that perfect smile at me. "Just case notes, Raye."
"Really?"
"Vallace."
I stared her down. That Balmoral question had hit a nerve. "I don't believe you."
"Dear detective," She spoke through gritted teeth, eyes narrowing. "If I wanted more questions than answers I would've gone to the police for help." She was more worked up than I'd ever seen her, which didn't say a lot, but strangely enough, it made me want to keep prodding her. However she seemed to be in a hurry to get out, and I'd only truly known her for about a week or two (However eventful those two weeks had been). So I pulled the board from the ground, lifting it behind my shoulders.
"I'm bringing this to the car."
It took us a few minutes to load the car, and a couple more for T. to clean her disaster of a hotel room. I got into the driver's seat of my car and didn't start it, deciding that I wasn't quite done talking with her yet. She wordlessly got in beside me. She was a little angry from our exchange, although I wasn't sure how I could tell from her expressionless face. T. sighed.
"You want to talk."
I nod, looking over at her. "If we're going to investigate together, you need to cut it out with the mystery shit. I'm not going to deal with someone who withholds evidence, because A, that's illegal, and B, it helps no one. I know that you're compensating me but I still reserve the right to quit anytime I want."
T. glances at me, then returns her gaze to the windshield, looking straight ahead. "You need the money." Her voice is icy when she speaks. I feel a chill quiver down my spine. "You fell into quite the dry spell after Mira's death, not to say that you were well off before it. Your agency no longer wanted you, so you decided to work on your own. But it seems not too many people are keen on hiring a detective who left their job, hm? I'm the only case you could get, and it's a well-paid one. You couldn't leave if you wanted to."
Words fail. She shouldn't have known that. She couldn't have.
"Your anonymity is important to you. Well, so's mine." Her voice is softer now, a little bit vulnerable as she turns her head toward me. "I have very.... personal reasons for getting involved with this. Reasons I can't quite disclose to you yet. I will never withhold anything that you need. But for now, I need you to trust me, Raye. Please."
I don't trust her at all. But god. Those eyes. The way that T. was looking at me swept me off my feet in a way that I couldn't even begin to describe. When I first saw her, I'd thought that looking too closely might make you drown, in those indigo eyes of hers. Now I was sure of it. I bit my lip, somehow unable to withstand being pulled closer by T.'s gaze. Finally, I found the words to respond.
"I'll help you."
T. huffed a breath of relief, sinking back into her car seat. "Good. That's.... very good."
And then we drove, in not-quite silence. Meaning the car would have been quiet if not for the buzzing of unspoken thoughts rattling around in our heads.
"Balmoral is a very, very small town somewhere on the edge of the red desert in Wyoming. I have reason to believe that Mira Vadej is from there."
I wait for her to tell me, more, but nothing else comes. A glance over at her makes my heart drop to my stomach. God..... She looks so tired.
"Let me off here please."
I glance around, eyeing the trees and forest that surrounds us. "You're sleeping in the woods?"
"Yes, well, sort of. I have people who can probably take my stuff, but it's likely I'll end up outside." T. seems a little indignant. "You saw my sleeping bag, didn't you? I will be completely fine out here you know, I-"
I cut her off. "No, no you aren't going to sleep out here. I may not know much about you T., but you obviously aren't from here and you are definitely not built for sleeping outside during October in Minnesota."
It's true. I couldn't imagine her sleeping soundly out here, not with that tiny frame of hers. She barely has any fat on her body at all, she'd be shivering too much to even begin to rest.
T. pipes up, a little squeamishly from her seat. "I'll stay with you then?"
I hadn't thought about it like that, but I guess there really isn't another option. It doesn't seem like she has a place to stay.
"You really don't have a place to go, huh?"
I can see her think through her answer before she responds, a little too casually for my tastes.
"I don't think I've had a real house since I left home."
"The hotel bills add up?"
T. smiles proudly. "Not for me necessarily, no."
"That's a very shady thing to say." I chuckle. "You aren't a criminal are you?"
"You wound me, detective!"
Well, that's something, at least. She's not a crook then.
"I prefer hustler."
Ah. There it is.
Well, wouldn't be the first time I've worked for a criminal. I pull into my apartment complex's driveway and help T. pull her board out of my car. Lord knows how she does this on her own. Suddenly, a thought hits me.
"T., you do have a car, right?"
T. freezes. And turns. There's a sheepishness on her face that makes me smirk. It's, decidedly, a good look on her.
"Did you have me drive you because you knew I'd offer that you stay the night?"
T. smiles up at me, indigo eyes blinking innocently.
"I'm afraid I don't understand the question. Could you repeat that for me?"
I shake my head, unable to hide the bemused grin creeping across my face.
"Unbelievable."
T. escapes up the steps to my apartment. I step into the door, noting that she'd already kicked off her shoes. I find her in the living room, placing a few select books on my admittedly barren bookshelf.
"Making yourself at home?"
"I'm trying my best. I don't plan to live here, this is just for tonight. Unless you wanted me, I'm sure I could compensate." She winks at me.
...I wasn't going to ask her to stay with me, okay? I was going to offer, politely, like how a friend might. Unfortunately, T. seemed to have noticed my face get hot as I looked anywhere but at her.
"Uh-oh. Bingo?"
"I- No, I was going to-"
"Oh, Raye!" T. giggled. "How forward of you!"
I smacked my palm against my forehead, ignoring how embarrassingly dark my cheeks were getting.
"Well, I thought if you needed somewhere it was only convenient!"
"Aww, no need to get so flustered, detective." T stepped forward. "Maybe.... well. If you think it's okay, I could stay awhile. It is a lot more comfortable than a cold car. Or tent."
"You cant laugh at me and then say I was right!"
T. laughed again in exchange for a response. She was close enough that you could see the speckles of brown littered across her nose, along with tiny scars that weren't prominent enough to see unless if you were looking. I found myself breathlessly caught up in her features all over again. It felt like I was trying to commit them to memory as a yawn stretched across her face. Suddenly I remembered that "wordless staring" probably wasn't on the list of normal flatmate interactions.
I gestured to the couch. "Comfortable. Good for sleeping."
T. eyed it over suspiciously. I wasn't lying, it was a good couch. She settled on the floor anyway.
"This is better."
I rolled my eyes. "You're a weirdo, you know that?"
T. gave me a smile that made my heart skip a beat. "And you wouldn't have me any other way."
I didn't dispute it, and I smiled at her despite myself. "Goodnight, Joanes."
"Goodnight, detective."
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