Free Day 9 by Robert T. Jeschonek

finally, Quincy made a move. He pulled a cell phone from the pocket of his black-and-red vest and held it in front of Hannahlee's face.
    "Hi! I'm Quincy's cell phone!" He said it in a high-pitched voice. "Wait till you see the next item on the news sites. The one about your behavior at this dinner table!"
    That said, Quincy swept the phone back into his vest pocket, got up, and slid out of the booth. Dunne watched as he bounded into the night, leaving the sound of the jingling doorbells in his wake.
    As Dunne turned to Hannahlee, he felt a wave of relief. He was sure they were better off without unpredictable, uncontrollable, irreverent Quincy in the mix.
    Still, Dunne thought he should steer clear of the subject for now. He didn't want to look like he was gloating.
    "When should we leave for Sensophile tomorrow?" He held up his cup as the waitress approached, and she refilled it with coffee. "Eight A.M., maybe?"
    Hannahlee locked him in her fiery emerald gaze. "Are you going to quit, too?"
    Dunne was caught off guard by the question. "Why do you ask?" He frowned nervously.
    Hannahlee continued to stare. "Would you have signed on if you'd known we'd be facing a killer? That your life would be in danger?"
    Dunne covered his hesitation with a sip of coffee. "Of course."
    Hannahlee raised her index finger and flicked it all the way to one side. "Bullshit."
    "Excuse me?" Dunne was stunned to be the target of the Bullshit Detector for once. "Are you calling me a liar?"
    "I'm thinking about firing you," said Hannahlee.
    " What ?" said Dunne. " Why ?"
    "Because you drink coffee ." Hannahlee winced. "Why do you think ?"
    Dunne stared at her, speechless, for a long moment. He remembered the way she'd looked at him after they'd hidden from the killer. After he'd run from the fight.
    Maybe she'd seen through him. Maybe she understood him better than he'd thought.
    "What do you want me to say?" Dunne sat back and folded his arms.
    Hannahlee's green eyes flared. "I've made terrible mistakes in my life." Her voice rose, edged with anger and sadness and power. "But I've stopped running from them."
    Dunne looked away.
    Hannahlee got up from the table. "I won't let my mistakes turn me into a liability anymore." She snapped up the check and started toward the register.
    Then, she stopped and turned. "Should Quincy and I wait for you in the morning?"
    "What?" Dunne frowned. "But he quit ."
    "Not for long. Trust me," said Hannahlee. "But don't let that stop you."
    "From what?" said Dunne. "From quitting?"
    "I'll leave it up to you," she said. " This time."
    And then she was gone.
    Dunne was left sitting at the table alone, head spinning from the events of the past few minutes. It was as if the three of them, after traveling together for days, had finally reached critical mass. Time to let off steam or melt down.
    Dunne tried to take a sip of coffee, but his hand was shaking too much. He felt like he'd been smacked around.
    As he put the cup down on its saucer, he wondered how Hannahlee seemed to know so much about him. Did she have a knack for reading people? Was she just a good guesser? Or had she studied his background before the mission?
    And if she'd studied his background, just how much did she know? Some of it...or all of it?
    Dunne held his head in his hands. The thought that Hannahlee...Lianna Caprice...Kitty Willow...knew all of it filled him with shame. The thing that he'd done, that had ruined his life, had been despicable.
    He wondered if he could even face her again. If he could bear to feel the weight of her accusing gaze and know that she knew.
    If he could stand before her ghost, as he did so often in his dreams, and smother in the heat of her rage. Choke as she cut his throat. Scream as she shot him in the face.
    Not Hannahlee.
    His wife.
    He wondered.
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    CHAPTER 15
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    "Ring ring!" Quincy spoke in a high-pitched squeak as he held out a tiny computer chip on the tip of his thick finger. "I'm another piece of