Free Home of the Braised by Julie Hyzy Page A

his suddenly icy demeanor, I began to realize how much trouble we might be in.
    I turned to Tyree’s colleague. Larsen was thinner, with a shaved head that appeared to be carved from ivory. His skeletal look was exacerbated by his sucked-in cheeks. He stared down at me with pale, angry eyes. No help there.
    Tyree seemed to be expecting an answer, so I obliged him. “Yes.”
    He shifted his weight but still remained too close, too tight for me to stand up. Mostly, when people invaded my personal space, they did so to be friendly. Tyree here was using it to intimidate. I stared up at him, hoping to communicate that he’d better not expect it to work.
    “Who have you told?” he asked.
    It hurt my neck to keep my face upturned enough to maintain eye contact with Tyree, but his manner brought my stubbornness into full strength.
    “You obviously don’t know me,” I said.
    Tyree’s nose twitched. “I asked you a question.”
    “And I’m telling you that if you knew me, you wouldn’t need to ask. I let the chief usher, Peter Everett Sargeant, know that Gav and I stumbled upon a ‘situation’ and that I may get pulled away”—I fluttered my hands as though to encompass the room—“and I anticipated a debriefing very much like this one. But I shared no details with him. I know better than that.”
    Tyree made a sound deep in his throat. Beside him, Larsen coughed.
    “What happened at the Ainsley Street Ministry?” I asked, twisting my head back and forth to try to detect humanity in one of their faces. I came up empty. “Who did that to those men?”
    “How do you know Evan Bonder?”
    I folded my arms, to keep my bubbling anger from allowing me to tremble. “Until you tell me where Gav is and if he’s all right, I have nothing to say to you.”
    Tyree’s scar brightened and I swore I saw it pulse. He barely moved his lips as he spoke. “I suggest you cooperate. We can make your life difficult. I trust you understand that.”
    Sitting while these two men towered over me was not my idea of a position of strength. I couldn’t help but believe, however, that there was a good reason why they remained civil and I hadn’t been hauled away yet: They wanted to keep my involvement quiet. I had no idea why, and right now, I didn’t care. All I cared about was Gav.
    “I’ll make you a deal,” I said. “I’ll answer every question you throw at me as long as you tell me about Gav.”
    Larsen turned toward the windows, his disgust obvious.
    Tyree shook his head.
    I tried again. “In case Gav hasn’t mentioned it to you himself, he’s injured. He’s on medical leave.”
    “I am well aware of his status. Now, how did you know Evan Bonder?”
    Fine, I thought. I’ll answer that much. Maybe then they’ll answer me. “I don’t,” I said. “That is, I didn’t. Gav wanted me to meet Evan. Said he was an old friend.”
    “He took you to meet him Thursday,” Tyree said, deadpan. “Special Agent Gavin chose
Thursday
for an impromptu visit.”
    “He did.”
    “Why?” Tyree’s black-hole eyes narrowed. “What was so special about Thursday?”
    “You make it sound like Gav should have known Evan and his group were in danger.”
    “Did he?”
    “No.” I pulled in a breath. “If you must know, Gav and I plan to be married.”
    For the first time since I’d met him, Tyree reacted. From his expression I could tell this wasn’t news, but the revulsion on his face was impossible to miss. “Go on.”
    “We want to—we hoped to—get married quickly. When we discovered that the courthouse was backed up for eight weeks, Gav thought of his friend Evan.” I spoke quickly, keeping as succinct as I could. “Apparently Evan was a minister and Gav thought that we might ask him to perform the ceremony for us.” I left out the part about Evan having called Gav, asking for help. Gav could share that if he wanted to. It would be hearsay coming from me, anyway. At least that’s how I rationalized keeping mum with