The Departed

how had that stupid bitch known?
    A door opened and Brendan looked up as his dad came in, followed by one of the detectives from French Lick’s microscopic police force. It had maybe three people who counted as detectives, Brendan figured. And this one wasn’t the one he’d been expecting to see.
    Brendan didn’t even know this guy’s name.
    He’d figured Dad would bring in Ron Langdon, his golf buddy. Not this guy—Brendan didn’t even know him.
    Just keep it cool . That was all he had to do, really.
    They didn’t know anything. Couldn’t prove anything. And the only people who did know shit were either dead or people who’d be in as much trouble as he was if they talked.
    No reason to panic, right?
    * * *
     
    “YOU can go on now.”
    Tristan looked sad.
    “Is she going to live?”
    “I don’t know,” Dez said, shaking her head. “But that’s not up to us. We found her, and they got her out, got her to the hospital. That’s all we can do.”
    He nodded, his image insubstantial, fading. He sighed and this time, when he flickered, he didn’t come back quite so strong. “Do you think you can find out what they…what they did to me?”
    “Is that what you want?”
    He shrugged. “Not so much for me. It doesn’t matter to me, really. But I think my parents, my sister…they deserve to know . ” He hesitated and then added, “And I don’t want them thinking that I was some fucking coward who decided to off himself for whatever reason. That wasn’t me. It…you were right. It matters. I want them to know.”
    “You’re right.” She gave him a gentle smile. “It does matter. And I’ll see what I can find out.”
    She swallowed, continued to stare even as he faded more.
    This time, when he faded completely, she knew he wouldn’t be back. She didn’t have to ask, didn’t need to linger. There was finality to his fading that just felt… complete . Tristan had done the one thing he’d waited around to do—he’d saved a girl’s life. At least, she hoped he had. If nothing else, he’d kept her from dying like that .
    Arms crossed over her chest, she continued to stare down at his stone, feeling the dance of wind over her chilled flesh.
    Dez didn’t know how much time had passed when she heard the engine. It didn’t surprise her, though. After seeing him show up at the hotel, she’d figured nothing could surprise her. Just why he was here, she didn’t understand, but she wasn’t at all shocked that he’d tracked her down to the small, privately owned cemetery.
    The sound of a car door shutting, the quiet crunch of gravel as he moved to join her, every sound drew her muscles tighter and tighter until she felt ready to snap.
    Instead, she forced herself to take a deep, slow breath. He was here because of the job, only the job, and once he got what he needed from her, he’d be gone.
    Because he wouldn’t let her matter. He wouldn’t let her matter to him, so she wouldn’t let him matter to her. It was a little mantra she told herself, and as long as she kept all of that in mind, she’d be fine.
    Hell, it had been a year.
    More than, and she was a grown woman, right?
    He was here about the job, about the girl, and once she told him she couldn’t help him much, he’d be on his way.
    He came to a stop next to her, and for the longest time, neither of them spoke.
    The tension in the air ratcheted even higher and she swallowed the urge to whimper as his heat managed to reach across the scant inches separating them, warming her when nothing else had done the trick. She swallowed the spit that had pooled in her mouth. Damn it, if he wasn’t going to say something, she’d do it—do it, get it over with, so she could get out of here. She’d hoped she could leave, but she now owed Tristan more than that. And if she was honest, she knew she wouldn’t have left until she’d at least tried to look around.
    A quiet sigh drifted through the graveyard and she slid a glance over at Taylor. A sigh. From him? Such a human sound—like he was tired. Like he had such human weaknesses.
    She looked away almost as quickly as she’d looked at him, though. He looked…hell. Too good. She’d always thought he looked good in those damn suits, but what in the hell was he doing out on a job in jeans? She opened her mouth, some snide question lurking right there.
    But he managed to get a question out first. It wasn’t one she was expecting, either.
    “Are you okay?”
    Dez gaped at him. Then she