Page 14 of Sullied Saints

"Really?" he asks sarcastically. Given what just almost happened in the corridor, I can't say he doesn't have grounds.

"Not if my life depended on it," I snap back. It’s childish, sure, but less childish than what I want to do, which is pull his hair.

“Given your so far impeccable choice of fuck buddy." He tilts his head from side to side. "I’m actually kind of flattered."

He's talking about Needler, or my late husband, or both. Either way, it’s a low blow. "You're a real asshole, you know that?"

He looks away, hopefully not thinking of what happened the last time I called him an asshole. I know I'm trying not to think of it. In the brief silence between us, I lean on the horn and scare the reporters hanging over the bonnet away.

"I don't, and didn't, have a girlfriend," Dirk tells me. "There, now you can clear your conscience."

Narrowing my eyes, I point out, "I'll remind you that you more than participated."

"I haven't forgotten." His tone is hard to read.

We're out on the road now. Dirk sighs through his nose, watching the protesters we pass by. Gripping the steering wheel, I glance at his face as he stares at them. "You shouldn't look. They're all nuts."

"They're right."

"What?"

Looking back to me, Dirk says, "Iwouldbe dead if not for Needler."

"We don't know that."

"No?" he raises an eyebrow. "Liked our odds, did you?" I neglect to answer; I remember as well as he does that night, being at the mercy of that crazy bitch, thinking I was about to have to watch him die. Dirk looks back out his window as the last of them pass by. "I didn't think of them when I decided to come back."

"Why did you decide to stay? Why not transfer?"

He's silent for so long, through a set of lights, that I think he's not going to tell me. "I should be—Ineedto be—on the Cocooner case."

"Why?"

"Well, I have inside experience now, don't I?" I can tell by his tone, almost joking, that it’s not the real answer.

"It might not be healthy, or smart, for you to be on her case."

Dirk gives me a look, and I ascertain I'm probably not the right person to have opinions onhealthybehaviour. "I'm worried about you, that’s all!"

"I'm fine."

"You are not."

"Areyoufine?"

"No!"

This might be the most civil conversation we've had for some time.

"So maybe we're not the best for each other right now," he surmises.

I don't know in which way he means. "You could have told me how you felt before, you know."

Flatly, Dirk looks at me and says, "You knew."

"I didn't know."

"Then it was because you chose not to."

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