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“You did. That’s why you should have thought before that comment about David seeing more of you than I—”
“Hold on. Let me call Ellie so she can hear this.”
“All right, all right. Geez, I’m just playing around.”
“Yeah,” Faith said, putting her phone away. “That’s what I thought.”
The banter ended anyway when Wanda approached them. Faith noticed with an embarrassing amount of satisfaction that despite Wanda’s grandstanding with the other police officers, she was deferential in her tone with the two of them.
"We've got all three forces on full alert. They've called in extra dispatchers to take calls regarding any unusual canine behavior. We've got hundreds of patrol officers working overtime, ready to respond at a moment's notice, and we're here at the heart of it all. Anything happens within forty miles of this building, we'll know about it in less than a minute. Obviously, we're thinking it'll be a day or two before this guy decides to screw up again, but when he does, we'll be waiting." She looked at the box of donuts in Michael's hand. "Got a cruller in there?"
“Be my guest,” Michael said, opening the box. “Faith’s watching her figure.”
Wanda lifted an eyebrow and looked Faith up and down. “You look like you should eat a few more donuts.”
Said the world’s skinniest blade of grass, Faith thought. So much for an end to banter.
“Come on,” Michael said, pushing the box under her face. “You yourself said the killer probably won’t strike tonight. Eat up. You need your strength.”
Turk whined and approached Michael with puppy eyes. Michael tossed him a glazed, which he snapped out of the air in one bite.
“See?” Michael said. “Turk’s eating.”
Faith was about to refuse, but her stomach rumbled, and grudgingly, she took the other maple bar.
“Good girl,” Michael said.
Faith paused with the donut halfway to her lips. She looked Michael in the eye and said seriously, “You may never say that to me again.”
“Noted,” Michael replied. He looked at the box. “We’re out of donuts. Anyone want a sandwich? I’m thinking of running to the twenty-four-hour deli across the street.”
“You know it’s okay not to eat sometimes, right?” Faith said.
“You know it’s okay to mind your own business sometimes, right?” Michael fired back.
Wanda listened to this back-and-forth with a small smile. “You two make a cute couple,” she remarked.
Michael—who for reasons Faith couldn’t understand was immune to personal shame—grinned and looked at Faith. Faith, of course, was beet red with a mixture of irritation and the shame that Michael lacked.
“We’re not a couple,” she said, hating that she had to say it, hating that Wanda’s expression made it clear she didn’t quite believe her.
“Ah. Well, you should think about it. You guys have a real connection.”
“Think so?” Faith said drily.
“I do.”
One of the other police detectives called Wanda away. Michael continued to grin at Faith for a moment before squeezing her arm lightly. “I’ll pick you up a turkey and swiss on rye, babe. That’s your favorite.”
“My favorite is an Italian club on wheat, and I will be giving Ellie a copy of the security footage from this room, so think before you push this any further.”
“You’re so cute when you’re angry,” Michael remarked.
Fortunately for him, he was already outside of kicking range, so Faith had no recourse but to lift her middle finger at him.
She sighed and looked down at Turk. He looked at her with an expression that reminded him too much of Michael’s smug, annoying little grin.
“Screw you too,” she quipped.
