Page 64 of Protecting Her Secrets

“Now you’re speaking my language. I love to shop.”

“I’ll be in touch this weekend.”

“Perfect.”

“If you’re done yapping,” Wilder says.

“Don’t be surly. It’s not often I meet other women who aren’t tourists,” Jazzy sasses.

With a roll of his eyes, he walks with purpose past the counter, and I give Jazzy a wave as I follow. We pass by two cubicles with desks with phones and computers on the right, a unisex bathroom on the left. What grabs my attention, though, are the cells that sit straight ahead. The two small square areas are lined with cream-colored steel bars, a thick lock in the center of each. They’re completely empty save for an uncomfortable-looking cot. One of the cots is empty and has a folded gray wool blanket on it, but a sleeping man is on the cot in the othercell. All four of his limbs hang over the sides, and his mouth is hanging wide open.

“That’s Eli. He likes to drink and pick fights.” He places a hand at the small of my back and leads me to an open door on the left. “My office is in here.” As he closes the door after us, Eli lets out a long and loud snort before catching his breath and mumbling nonsense. “That’s how we know he’s getting ready to wake up.”

“I see.” I don’t know what else to say. I had no idea places like this still existed. It’s so far from my life in Bakersfield, and I’m having a hard time processing that this is my new home. It’ll definitely take some adjusting. I’m used to a certain hustle, where everyone minds their business and no one makes an effort to get to know you. I’ve certainly never had a stranger give me her number and ask me to coffee.

“Take a seat. It won’t take long to get a case number for you. Then you can make your calls, and we can get Tall Mike out to tow the car.”

“Tall Mike?” I ask distractedly as I take in his office.

The first thing I notice is that it’s immaculate and devoid of anything that would tell what kind of man Wilder is. No pictures on the wall, no knickknacks on the bookcase or his desk—there’s not even a nameplate. And it’s abnormally clean. There are perfect lines in the carpet from the vacuum, the metal filing cabinet gleams, there’s not a speck of dust anywhere, and the cherry wood of his desk is so shiny, I can see my reflection.

“Yeah. He’s tall, and not to be confused with Mike, who owns the auto shop where Tall Mike works.”

“Of course,” I say, as if that’s not a strange way to distinguish between two people.

Wilder almost looks embarrassed as he wiggles his mouse to wake up his computer. “I know how thingsare. . . differentaround here. Growing up, I bounced around Culver Springs,Sacramento, and Redding, so I understand how much of a culture shock this must be. But trust me when I say, I settled here instead of either of those big cities because this community is something special.” He winces when Eli snores loud enough to shake the walls. “Sure, there are some. . . characters, but that’s what makes this place homey.”

I nod and smile, distractedly still trying to figure out why this office looks like it was staged for a movie. “I think it’ll take me some time, but other than the snow, I’m loving it. And it’s not like there aren’t bigger cities nearby if I need something I can’t get in town.”

“I’m glad to hear it.”

“Did you just move into this space?”

“No. Been here for four years. Why?”

“No reason. It’s so empty and clean.”

He stacks the papers in a tray labeled incoming, but there’s no need, since they were perfectly stacked before. “The space you keep is a direct reflection of your mental state.”

“Or it’s a direct reflection of your personality,” I say under my breath.

“What’s that?”

“Nothing.”

He sighs, as if he’s dealing with a child. “Look, I’m trying, okay? I know I’m not an easy person, but Walker is more than a friend to me. He’s my family.”

“We’re both his family.”

“Yeah, but I’m not naïve about what’ll happen if we don’t get along—the girlfriend or wife always wins.”

“What do you mean?”

He folds his arms on his desk. “We have monthly poker nights, but let’s say, for example, I said something to piss you off, so you suddenly suggest he stay in for a movie night instead. Who’s he gonna pick?”

I’d laugh at how juvenile this conversation is if he didn’t look seriously worried. “Has that happened before? With previous women, I mean.”

“No, Walker’s never been a boyfriend kind of guy. Shit, sorry. I’m fucking this up.”

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