Page 9 of Taken from Her
Diana followed her gaze, taking in the photos and flowers, the careful arrangement that honored their absence without surrendering hope.
"The investigation—" Diana began when she turned back to Lavender.
"Can wait five minutes," Lavender interrupted gently. "Coffee first. Then we talk."
It was a test, subtle but unmistakable. Whose pace would they follow? Whose rules would govern this interaction? Around the café, Lavender's regulars pretended not to watch while hanging on every word.
Diana lifted the mug, inhaling steam that carried layered aromas. Her first sip was cautious, then deeper as she registered quality that exceeded expectations. "This is good."
"Georgia's blend," Lavender said, nodding toward the elderly woman sitting in her usual armchair. "She used to run a coffee shop and was a librarian in Seattle before retiring here, and she taught me everything I know about reading customers."
"Reading customers?"
"Knowing what they need, not just what they order. Some mornings call for comfort, others for clarity. Rarely the same thing day to day." Lavender busied herself wiping the counter, giving Diana space to observe without feeling observed. "Police work is probably similar—reading people, figuring out what they're not saying."
Diana's hands tightened slightly on the mug. "Sometimes. Though police work tends to focus on facts rather than feelings."
"That must make community policing challenging."
Diana's posture shifted—not defensively, but with the recognition of someone whose assumptions were being gently challenged. She glanced around the café again, seeing it differently now, not a collection of potential witnesses but a network of relationships.
"The missing women," Diana said, returning to safer professional ground. "I need to understand their connections, their routines, and who they trusted."
"And you think I have that information?"
"I think you have information my officers can't access through standard interviews." Diana's voice carried acknowledgment of limitations that couldn't have been easy to admit, even after their earlier conversation. "Community members might share things with you that they wouldn't tell the police."
Lavender studied Diana's face, seeing the slight tension around her eyes, the way she held herself with careful control. Here was someone stepping outside her familiar territory and admitting that her usual methods might be insufficient. It was vulnerability disguised as professional necessity.
"You're right," Lavender said finally. "They might. Question is whether that information would be safe in official channels."
Diana set down her mug with deliberate care. "Meaning?"
"Meaning this community has learned to protect itself. We share information when we trust it won't be used against us." Lavender met Diana's gaze directly. "As we’ve discussed, trust takes time to build."
Around them, the café hummed with resumed conversation, but Lavender could feel patrons’ attention still focused their way. Her community was evaluating this interaction, determining whether this particular authority figure might be different from others they'd encountered.
Diana seemed to understand the weight of the moment. "What would it take? To build that trust?"
"Time, consistency, and proof that community cooperation serves community interests, not just police efficiency." Lavender refilled Diana's mug without being asked. "And another conversation that happens somewhere more private than this."
Lavender nodded toward the back room, the door visible beyond the counter. "Unless you prefer conducting sensitive discussions in front of an audience?"
Diana checked her watch, jaw tightening slightly. "I have ten minutes before I need to be back at the station. Will that be enough for whatever this is?"
The dismissive edge in her voice—“whatever this is”—made several nearby conversations pause. Lavender felt her community's protective attention sharpen, but she kept her expression neutral.
"It'll have to be," Lavender said, leading toward the back room while Diana followed with the reluctant efficiency of someone fulfilling an obligation rather than embracing an opportunity.
Behind them, conversations resumed with careful intensity, processing what they'd witnessed and what it might mean for the investigation and their missing friends and chosen family.
The door closed behind them with a soft click.
Diana settled into the same chair she'd occupied during their previous meeting, her notebook and pen already out.
"Is your ten-minute limit still in effect?" Lavender asked, noting the tension in Diana's posture as she deftly activated privacy systems. "Community protection requires more than good intentions.”
"Yes. My team suggested I needed a different approach and that standard interviews weren't capturing the full picture."
