Free Three Minutes to Midnight by A. J Tata Page B

Why would someone name you that?”
    â€œEver hear of Roy Hawthorne, the code talker from World War II?”
    Grace’s demeanor changed again. She placed her hand over her mouth and gasped. “I’m so sorry.” She dropped her head, placing both of her hands on her forehead, as if to summon a more worthy apology. “I saw that movie. Yes. How insensitive of me. Built-in defense mechanism. I caught so much grief as a kid for being the little ‘oriental’ girl. Sorry.”
    Mahegan reached his hands across and slowly removed hers from her face. “Don’t sweat it. Let’s drink some beer.” This time he toasted her and looked directly into her copper eyes.
    â€œI get awkward when I’m nervous,” she said.
    â€œWhy are you nervous?”
    â€œHere you are, practically the Marlboro Man, right in front of me, and I have exactly one thing on my mind, and I just can’t keep myself from talking.”
    â€œWhat’s on your mind?”
    Mahegan watched as she placed her beer on the stained coaster, which had seen thousands of glass bottoms. Grace pursed her lips, as if kissing air, flipped her straight black hair off her forehead, took a deep breath, and said, “Slow down, woman.”
    â€œIt’s been a long day.” Mahegan thought about the wait at the Wallaby, Papa Diablo and Manuela, the black pickup truck, Scarface, James Gunther and Sons Construction, the fence posts, the posthole digger, the crime scene, Nathan Daniels, and now Grace Kagami. Busy day, indeed.
    â€œThat it has. And I’m coming out of a bad breakup. So let’s change the topic. Why were you so late getting to the crime scene?” she said. Grace seemed more relaxed now, as if she had reined in whatever emotion she was feeling.
    â€œLate notice. Our concern is the location of Captain Maeve Cassidy.” Mahegan paused, scanning Grace’s face. “How long have you been here?”
    She leaned back against the wall of the booth and sighed heavily again. “I’ve had a couple. This stuff gets to me, you know?”
    â€œI know.” Mahegan thought of his best friend, Sergeant Wesley Colgate, blown to bits by a roadside bomb in Afghanistan. He knew better than most. “So what do we think about Cassidy? Does anyone know anything?”
    Grace leaned forward, drained the rest of her beer, and grabbed the next one as the waiter appeared with the second round, like a quarterback handing the football to a running back. Perfect timing.
    â€œI’ve got a secret,” Grace whispered. “But I can’t tell you. Griffyn said he would ‘crush the nuts of anyone who leaked classified information.’ ”
    â€œWell, you’re safe, then,” Mahegan said. “Being a woman and all.”
    Grace flipped her eyes up at Mahegan and smiled. He noticed the small gold hoop earrings dangling just off her slender neck. She had long eyelashes, which remained remarkably still as she held his gaze. Her skin was flawless, smooth, and silky.
    â€œYou’re funny, Hawthorne.” Then, “Maybe I can tell you. But there are two things I know for sure.” She drained another half of her beer. Mahegan had drunk barely a third of his.
    â€œWhat’s that, Grace Kagami?”
    After another pause, processing, Grace said, “I like that. Grace Kagami. The way you say my name. It’s nice.”
    â€œNice name.”
    â€œThe first thing I know is that Griffyn is a first-class douche bag of the highest order,” she said. “A misogynistic, sadistic dickwad. Thinks women are idiots.”
    â€œYou shouldn’t be so obtuse.”
    She stared at him with deadpan eyes.
    â€œSeriously. I agree. I’m sorry you have to deal with someone like that.”
    â€œThe second thing is that I’m in no condition to drive, and douche bag wants me at work at six frigging a.m. Can you believe that?”
    â€œI can give you a