Page 62 of Solanum

"You haven't been sleeping?" Concern wrinkled her brow immediately.

"Not too much. Talking to these victims isn't my strong point. Chin does a nice job. Not as good as you though."

"Wilkinson has you observing?" Her brows flicked upward, and her speculation increased with it.

"Yeah. Oddly enough…"

"I don't understand his choices lately. I understand why he kept Jenson back, because having a man interviewing female rape victims might not be helpful, but allowing an unvetted, new team member do it is worrisome. I could've at least observed."

"I was thinking the same."

"Maybe I'll bring it up to him…"

"Leave it for now. Let's see what comes of this. Maybe he's testing her instincts and wants me to watch how she works for some unknown reason. I don't get to see H.R. files like he does. Maybe she has a disciplinary action or something like that."

"That would be a serious risk."

"For sure."

"All right, well, I'll keep an eye on it," she said. Tension replaced her sadness and work-face Nora returned. "Let me know if you feel anything is off."

"I will…" What I didn't tell her, however, was I already felt that way. I didn't want to worry her without confirmation though. "Get some sleep tonight."

"I will. I'll send the group text first," she said, her voice softening. "Be careful."

"You, too—" I opened my lips, and felt my tongue strike the roof of my mouth in the threatened K sound belonging to her pet name before I rapidly corrected. "Keep it cool, Nor."

"I will." A small smile remained on her lips when she lifted her phone. "Night."

"Night." I pressed the end button and let out a heavy sigh.

As expected, the work week tumbled on with the discovery of three more victims with similar reports of their rape experience. To my horror, none of them had their rape kits processed, and so I spent the last two days in Tacoma arguing with the locals in order to get shit done. In the end, it did, and we affirmed two out of three DNA matches.

With the heat of the situation on our shoulders, we returned to Seattle to regroup with Jackson's team. Despite all the dedication of the expanded B.A.U. resources, although we had matching reports and DNA, we didn't have a suspect and no viable trail to follow. And so, we returned with hours of interview tape and data only.

Time carried itself away in a vortex created by employment. On our return to headquarters, Jackson and I reported to Wilkinson then parted for the afternoon.

I found Nora in her office, the door hanging open while she typed something up on her laptop. I leaned against the doorframe, crossing my arms and propping my heel on it when I crossed my ankles.

"Hey," I said when she didn't notice me at first. "Look at you all busy."

"Jenson is a terrible writer." She gestured to her screen. "No idea how he made it through graduate school, to be honest. I've been fixing his write up for half an hour."

I laughed at her rambling as if I lived chronically inside her thought patterns. "You're just figuring that out?"

"Wilkinson's never had him send his reports to me direct." She sighed, finally leaning back in her chair and puffing up her cheeks. "You look beat."

"Not too much." I helped myself to her space, then leaned against her desk while facing her. "How are you?"

"Hanging in. Anita's in for our Saturday pack-a-thon." She smiled at the reminder of it. "Maya is, too, but will be over a little later. She's covering a partial shift."

"Awesome. Do you have boxes and everything?"

"I do. I picked up some from Home Depot the other day." She drew in a slow breath. "I'm going to need to get more furniture eventually."

"You will." I gripped the edge of her desk then slid up to sit on it. "We're not going to be living close anymore."

"It's just an hour…" She pressed her lips together as if the notion caused her a strike of discomfort. "And I can always crash at your place if I need to. Or Maya's."

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