Page 31 of Stutter

“I mean, I was about to go to bed, but I have time for you.”

Tasha and I were partners for over five years. She was young and ambitious, started out as a cop, then decided to join the FBI. She had barely been there a year before being assigned on my team, making us forced friends. “How's Tom?” I ask of her husband so that this isn’t awkward but I’m pretty sure I’ve made it awkward.

Goddamn, I don’t even know if she changed her last name.

She hums in disapproval, but she answers me. “He's great. Getting old.” There’s a beat of a pause and then, “You’ve never been one for small talk Harrington. Cut the shit. What’s going on?”

She’s right. I’m not. I never had time for bullshit small talk; it’s unnecessary and wastes time I don’t have. “What’s that thing you said to me when I told you I was going to be teaching at Rayne-Moore?”

“That it’s fucking weird the entire town doesn’t have a crime rate.”

“Right.”

“Small crime rates meanbigsecrets.”

I nod although she can’t see me because fuck if that isn’t so close to the fucking truth. “I think I may have found something. I have a few cold case files that might not be so cold anymore… think you can get me some files from the database?”

Without hesitation she says, “I might be able to get a few. Depending on if I can bribe Tom with sex.”

“You can always bribe me with sex, babe. Hey Mav!”

“Hey Tom. How’s the job?” He works for the IT department portion of the FBI. Security breaches and whatnot. Tasha and I were always in the field. I don’t even remember how they met. Christmas party, I think. But I can’t remember. All I know is one day she was single and the next, there was an engagement ring on her finger.

“Job’s fine. Not as exciting as the stuff y’all do, but you know. Can’t complain. Rattle me off a few of those names and I’ll get what I can tomorrow and email them to you.”

“I don’t think these should be emailed. Do you still live in Springfield?” I ask.

Again, this gives them pause.

“Till we retire back home to North Carolina.” He replies finally.

I breathe out. “Could you come here? I’ll pay for your travel expenses. And I’ll get you a weekend stay at a hotel out in Boston.”

I can hear them whispering amongst each other until Tashafinally says, “Fine. But we want a honeymoon suite. The Four Seasons. All the fancy stuff.”

“You've been married for four years.”

“We never had a honeymoon.” She gripes matter-of-factly. Right. Because I had walked away from it all the week before their wedding. Which meant she had to work double time to cover my ass.

Fuck I really am a bastard. I’m sure after I gave her permission to tell our story, but to leave me out of it, she had book tours and podcast shows and… I oblige her, grateful for any help I can get, giving Tom the names and dates I know are more recent, within the last ten years. We talk a bit longer as she updates me on their fertility treatments and struggles, and I regret not answering any of her calls. Or texts. Or emails.

But I left the FBI for a reason. I got out for a reason.

What happened at the Ackles Farm… I almost let it break me. No, it did. It did break me. Something in my psyche was never the same.

Before we hang up, she says, “Hey, it was really good hearing your voice. Please don’t let another three years go by before we talk again. Even if it’s just… to talk. You know? Just… remember I’m a phone call away.”

“Thanks, T. I… might have to take you up on that.”

“Oh? What’s her name?”

I pull the phone away from my ear and look down at it. “You psychic or something?”

She laughs and it feels good to hear someone laugh again. I myself haven’t done that in such a long time I don’t think I remember how to. “No. But I know you. Something must have happened for you to have the spark light up your ass for you to call me. I mean, it’s been years, Mav.” She scolds me like an older sister, and it feels nice.

I contemplate whether or not I should tell her about Raven but she’s right. We were once close enough I let her cry on my shoulder, and I let her sleep on my arm during flights all over the nation. “Her name is Raven.”

“Raven… Rayne-Moore… Christ, Maverick, what the fuck?” I can see her now, out of bed and pacing her bedroom. “Is this why you went to teach there?”

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