Steven James - The Knight

“I guess I’ll keep Cliff company on the chopper.” A slight pause. “Good work today, Cheyenne.”

“Thank you.” She brushed aside a stray tress of hair that had fallen in front of her eye.

“So,” I said.

“So.”

Twilight tipped over the mountains. All around us the day was wearing thin. The ambulance began to slowly rumble toward us over the pot-holed road.

“You doing anything else tonight?” she asked.

“I’ll probably work a little on recalculating the geoprofile now that we know the killer used this location. Maybe follow your suggestion: take a good, cool bath. Break out the aloe vera. All that.”

It seemed like maybe there was more to say, but I didn’t know what it might be. “Well, OK,” I said. “Good night. I’ll see you tomorrow. Thanks again for shooting the chain.”

“My pleasure.”

I headed for the chopper but had only made it a few steps before she called me back. “Wait.”

I turned. “Yes?”

A slight pause, then, “Have dinner with me.”

I felt a sweep of both excitement and apprehension. “I’m not sure I can-”

“Oh. You have plans already.”

“No, I…” Tessa had told me she was hanging out with Dora for supper and a movie tonight so I’d be home alone and would probably just end up throwing in a pizza-not exactly what I imagined Cheyenne meant by the word plans, but still “Oh, I’m sorry.” Cheyenne’s voice flattened. “You’re seeing someone, I-”

“No, no. It’s not that. I’m not seeing anyone, I just-”

“The woman on the phone earlier today?”

Man, she was good. “Lien-hua? No, that’s over.” The words tasted sour in my mouth.

“So then, you’re not seeing anyone.” Cheyenne said it decisively, and I wondered if she were trying to convince me that it was true. “And neither am I, and we’re both hungry and we’re both free for dinner. So, all I’m saying is, eat it with me.”

I noticed Reggie Greer walking toward the snake’s remains, not far from us. “I don’t know, Cheyenne…”

“I’m not asking you to marry me, just to eat food in my general vicinity.”

The ambulance cruised to a stop ten meters away.

Reggie grabbed the shovel and used it to scoop up the snake’s remains. “Agent Bowers,” he called. “Thanks for helping me out back there in the kitchen.” He tossed the dead snake further into the field, out of sight.

“You’re welcome.” As I answered Reggie, I was still trying to think of what to say to Cheyenne.

“Well?” she said.

A different tack. I lowered my voice, hoping Reggie wouldn’t hear. “Maybe I’m old-fashioned, but I’ve always thought it was the guy’s job to ask the girl out.”

And then, before I could say another word, she said, “Well, thank you, Dr. Bowers. I’d be honored to join you for dinner.”

“I wasn’t exactly-”

“Eight, then?”

“Eight-”

“Perfect. I know a great steak place near Union Station that you can take me to.” She put her hand on my arm and gave it a soft squeeze. “This time, you can pick me up.” Then she told me her address and left for the ambulance.

I caught Reggie Greer grinning at me. “What?” I said.

“That was smooth.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Sorry. I couldn’t help but overhear. Getting Detective Warren to ask you out and then switching everything around so she wouldn’t feel awkward about taking the first step-nice. Very nice.”

“Oh yeah, wow,” I mumbled. “Thanks.”

“And you’re a brave man to go on a date with her.”

I wasn’t exactly sure how to take that. “It’s not a date.”

Cheyenne disappeared into the ambulance. I really hoped she wasn’t hearing any of this.

“Oh.” He winked at me. “I get it.” The ambulance doors closed.

I folded my arms. “I’m just eating a meal in her general vicinity.”

“Sure. Gotcha.”

This was going nowhere. “I’m leaving now. Good-bye.”

I headed toward the helicopter as the ambulance pulled away.

And as I thought about the upcoming evening, I remembered how understandably upset Tessa had been about the pot of basil.

I borrowed Cliff’s cell, and when Tessa didn’t pick up, I left a voicemail telling her to have fun at the movie and that I’d just grab supper later and see her when she got home. I explained that my cell was broken, and left Cheyenne’s number and told her to “just call Detective Warren if you need to get in touch with me.”

She didn’t know that Detective Warren was a woman.

Then Cliff and I climbed aboard the chopper, and a few moments later we were soaring above the darkening mountains, flying east toward Denver, where the moon was already beginning to rise.

Tessa was emotionally fried.

After filing through the memory box all afternoon with Dora and realizing how much of her mom’s life she didn’t know anything about, she’d decided she needed some time to chill before heading out again for the evening.

So after Dora left to take care of a few things at home, she’d started going at the cube again, and finally managed to solve it once, but she still wasn’t even close to doing it with her eyes closed.

She’d been working on it a few minutes ago when the phone started ringing, totally distracting her.

But she’d kept her eyes closed. Tried to concentrate.

Generic ringtone. It kept ringing.

Annoying, annoying, annoying.

Finally it stopped, but by then it was too late. She’d completely lost track of where the colors were. Frustrated, she opened her eyes and went to see if whoever had called had left a message.

And found a voicemail from Patrick.

On the vm he explained that he was twenty-five minutes out and to have a good time at the movie and not to worry about him because he would just eat supper later and that he loved her and to call some detective named Warren if there was a problem.

And when she heard his voice, she remembered their last, less-than- cordial conversation.

OK, so hanging up on him might not have been the best thing to do, especially on a day he was obviously stressed about the trial and the pot of basil-oh, that was just way too disturbing-and breaking up with Agent Jiang. Ending the call like that had probably not helped her case for convincing him to give her the diary.

Hmm. So, OK.

He would grab supper later, huh? So that meant he hadn’t eaten yet.

And come to think of it, except for the chips and salsa she’d had earlier with Dora, she hadn’t eaten either.

And that gave her an idea. Maybe, just maybe, if she stopped acting like a whiny little brat, nagging him to give her the diary, he might change his mind about giving it to her. If she showed him that she really could be mature and responsible…

Dinner.

Yes.

There weren’t too many things that both she and Patrick liked to eat, but spaghetti with meatless sauce was one of them. Perfect.

But, according to his voicemail, she had less than twenty-five minutes to get it ready.

She called Dora and cancelled for the evening, pulled a bag of spaghetti noodles off the shelf, and filled a pot with water. Then she stuck it on the stove and started to prepare a salad while she waited for the water to boil.

I smelled the spaghetti sauce as I stepped through the front door.

“Tessa?” I set my computer bag next to the couch.

She appeared in the kitchen doorway holding a ladle dripping with marinara sauce and wearing the barbeque apron Ralph’s wife Brineesha had given me on Father’s Day last year that read “King of the Coals.”

“Welcome home,” she said. “Supper’s on the table.”

“What are you doing?”