Page 21 of When I Was His

“I hate most of it, but this stuff is delicious.”

“Want to taste my stout?”

I wrinkled my nose, knowing his beer would be bitter, and shook my head. We chatted about things going on in our lives. Ty told me about a few of the cases he was working on, then paused. I waited because I knew his next words would be about my father.

“I reviewed our evidence for your father’s case.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The department still has it?”

“Of course. It’s an open case. They wouldn’t get rid of anything yet.”

I feared him digging into my father’s case and what he would ask of me. It took me months to try and put it behind me, but it was still there.

“I still think you’re wasting your time. There wasn’t much to go on back then.”

He took a sip of his stout and licked the foam from his lips. “I wanted to ask you some questions.”

I sighed loudly. “Is this why you wanted to take me to lunch?”

He shook his head. “No. Of course not. I would never. You’re the only witness. The few cameras in the area didn’t catch much because your father’s SUV was out of range. Do you remember anything from that night?”

“No. Everything is shadow. I remember hearing the shot and crouching by my father’s body.”

I sniffled as tears welled in my eyes, picking up my napkin to dab at them. Ty reached across the table and gently stroked my arm.

“I’m sorry. I want justice, but I won’t hurt you by doing it.”

“I want this case solved. My father deserves it,” I said tearfully.

“If you remember anything, will you tell me?” he asked hopefully.

“I’ll tell you, but I don’t. I want to see his face, but I can’t. In my nightmares, it’s just a blur.”

“Did you ever try hypnosis?”

I shook my head. “No, I don’t want to.”

“It’s your choice. I’m only asking because it might make you remember.”

“What if I told you I don’t want to remember? It’s been sixteen years since it happened, and I’m still not free. Sometimes I feel trapped.”

The waitress came to our table with the food, but my appetite had disappeared. Ty dug into his grilled cheese, taking a big bite but stopping in mid-chew as he looked at me.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m not hungry.”

He swallowed what was in his mouth and put his grilled cheese back on his plate.

“Don’t let it consume you. I won’t ask again unless you offer.”

I picked up a waffle fry and nibbled one corner until I finished it. Ty smiled as I took my butter knife and quartered my burger, a habit I had for years.

“Good.”

We didn’t speak about my father’s case for the rest of lunch. I enjoyed spending time with Ty. It was like we were kids back in Hudson Brook again. He insisted on paying the bill even though I offered him money, and after that, we went out into the bright sunshine.

“Want to hang out for a while, or do you have something to do?” he asked.

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