Free In the Drink by Allyson K Abbott

I’d feel better, too, if you came in with me. I don’t want to jeopardize things, but the letter didn’t specifically say I couldn’t seek help from someone other than the cops. I think if you can be convincing enough on this blind date thing and no one fingers you for a cop, it would be all right for you to come in with me. In fact, if we really were on a blind date, I think it would seem odd if you didn’t.”
    â€œThen come along I will,” he said.
    â€œSo how much of that backstory you just gave me was true and how much was made up?”
    â€œThe story is true enough. I find it’s best to stick to the truth as much as possible in these cases. The fewer lies you have to keep track of the better. I really did work construction back in the day before I became a cop. I also really like architecture, but I like the cop work more.”
    â€œWell, I appreciate you doing this, even though it isn’t part of your normal cop stuff.”
    â€œActually, it works for me. You can be a part of my cover story as much as I’m a part of yours. If my bosses are watching me, it would look funny to them if I didn’t have some sort of personal life.”
    â€œGlad to be of help,” I said, somewhat facetiously.
    â€œDuncan said you knew the man they found downtown beneath the RiverWalk.”
    I nodded, my throat tightening. “I did,” I managed to say. “He was a regular customer, and seemed like a nice guy. He sure as hell didn’t deserve to die because of me.”
    From the corner of my eye I saw Malachi shoot me a look. “He didn’t die because of you,” he said with a scowl. “He died because there are some twisted people in this world. In no way is this your fault.”
    I wasn’t sure I agreed with him, but my throat had tightened enough that speech was momentarily impossible. I stared out the windshield as a minute or two of silence passed and willed myself to let it go . . . for now.
    â€œDo you like seafood?” Malachi asked.
    The sudden change of topic threw me. “Um, sure. Why?”
    â€œBecause I made reservations for us at Harbor House. They have other stuff on the menu of course, but they’re known for their seafood.”
    â€œYou mean we’re really going to dinner?”
    â€œSure, why not? We have to eat, right? And if we’re going to make this dating thing look convincing, we should start it off on the right foot.”
    â€œI suppose so,” I said.
    I must have sounded a little hesitant because next he said, “If you don’t like seafood, Harbor House has steaks and chicken, too. Or if you want we can go somewhere else.”
    â€œNo, that won’t be necessary. Harbor House will be fine. I’ve never eaten there but I’ve heard good things about it.” My hesitation had nothing to do with going to Harbor House, but rather with going anywhere with Malachi at all. This felt uncomfortably real to me, and uncomfortably . . . well, comfortable.
    We pulled up in front of the art supply store and Malachi found a parking space on the street two doors down. We got out and walked together to the store, Malachi once again offering his arm. I felt uncomfortable, but I wasn’t sure if it was the situation with the letter and the art store that had me feeling that way, or if it was the situation with Malachi. Maybe it was both. It wasn’t that I didn’t like Malachi, I did. In fact, I liked him a lot. He felt . . . right.
    As if things weren’t confusing enough for me already.

Chapter 6
    The art store had a bell that rang as we entered, though it wasn’t needed to announce our arrival. The place was small, and there was a young man behind the counter, which was right next to the door.
    â€œHi. Can I help you folks find something?” he asked.
    â€œYou can,” I said, taking the lead. “I called just a bit ago. I’m interested in learning how to