Page 10 of Sullied Saints

"Hm," he shrugs and sits back, as though dismissing his own future. "About my cellmates…"

"This isn't a hotel," Tawill speaks up, an interruption from the corner.

Tristan spares her a hard look. “Then this isn't childhood trauma hour."

“Tristan…” I start, wishing Tawill had stayed the hell out of it.

“No.” His eyes cut back to me. “I could make this much more difficult. I could hide behind a lawyer or refuse to speak even to you. I’m not. But I’m not a wind-up toy you can bring out of the box of discarded crap when you feel like it, either.”

Tawill says, “Don’t you want to stop your sister from killing more innocent people?”

I manage to school my face as Tawill speaks again. So much for just observing. I want to slap her.

Tristan doesn’t move his pale gaze from me this time, doesn’t deign to give her a response. He must care on some level. Why else would he even be talking? Why else would he have murdered so many other killers? “What’s wrong with your cellmates?” I ask.

“They’re unclean. I can’t think surrounded by filth.” He sits back, and the interview is clearly over. Thanks to Tawill. God, how long will it be until she decides she’s ready to call me back for another interview? A week? A month?

As we're leaving, the door about to close behind us, Tristan calls to me, "See you soon, Eleanor."

The door closes, and Andrea is there waiting with another officer to escort him back to holding once we’re clear. But rather than moving off down the hall back into the building proper, Tawill is pulling open the door into the observation room, behind the glass, and she waits for me to enter before her.

We're in there alone when she asks me, voice flat, "What did he mean by that?"

"By… what?" I ask, wondering what part of that interview I can be expected to comment on already.

"'See you soon.'"

My hands spread. "I'd guess it means he's still only going to speak to me, and he'd like it to be sooner." I frown. "Surely it benefits us to get the information sooner?"

Tawill sighs, leaning on the window ledge, watching as Tristan is peacefully escorted out by armed guards. Finally, she straightens, turning back without looking at me. "That’s all for today. We'll call you when…"

"No."

Now she finally meets my gaze, and I realise what I've said. I shake my head. "I understand that I'm not your favourite employee—probably never was. But if not for my 'heinous' actions, we wouldn't have Needler at all. And if not for me now, you'd be getting nothing from him." Barring my nerves, knowing I’m about to give an ultimatum and that’s usually not a great idea, I say, "He trusts only me. And I can't do my job by being called in once a month for an hour. So, are you going to let me do my job?"

Tawill stares back, expression unreadable. Whatisreadable is that she's not used to being talked back to. When she breaks away first, I understand what should have been obvious all along. They need me.

But still, the silence stretches out, uncomfortably long.

"Fine," she says at last, and I feel my shoulders loosen from where they've tensed up towards my ears. "You're back on the case. Full time." And she turns for the door, pulling it open before I can say anything. I step up behind her to follow her out, but she comes up short to wait for someone already standing in the doorway.

I meet Dirk's eye over the top of Tawill's head for the briefest moment before Tawill speaks, "Officer Lancaster. Good. You're both back on the Needler case, and by association, the Cocooner case. As witnesses," she adds, though the word is meaningless, just a way of limbo-ing under the red tape of case bias. Official paperwork will have us on Drug Diversion or some such obscure assignment. Meanwhile, we know, and everyone else knows, we’re working the case, just like I was working the case of the man who killed my husband. Tregam is infamous for its ‘whatever gets the job done’ outlook.

"Uh…" Dirk looks like he might like to either disagree or slink off, but Tawill nods, her orders given, and moves past him.

Suddenly alone, and with the only exit from this tiny room being past the man I somehow managed to do an Irish goodbye to from my own apartment, I shift from foot to foot. "I didn't expect you to come in," I say, about as awkwardly as someone can sayanywords.

"Evidently," is all he says, giving me a dark look.

I bite my lip. As usual, he has the right to be annoyed. Since I’m such a fucking idiot and keepgivinghim reasons. "You're staying, then?"

"For now."

Following him out of the observation room, I try, "Dirk, I…"

"Oh. My.Godddd! You're back! You’rebothback" Chloe throws herself at me in a more enthusiastic hug than I was prepared for, and before I’ve even had time to get my arms around her in return, she does the same to Dirk, who, through his frown of surprise, manages to pat her on the top of the head.

The recent events have not dulled her enthusiasm. If anything, I note with a look at the slight tan now glowing on her wide-eyed face, a holiday seems to have renewed Chloe’s energy. Which may or may not be what we all need. "I've missed you guyssomuch! I mean, IloooveDean and Howie, but it’s just not the same!"

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