Finally, the pixilation dissolved, and the whirling circle disappeared, leaving Alace’s unsmiling face in its place. He glared at her, noting she’d pulled on her ice queen mask most often used when she felt threatened. Best to basically jump in with both feet. “Your control of things is not being usurped. I’m not backing away from our agreement. On missions, I’m still going to want you in my head, want you to be my eyes, need to know you’ve got my back.” Her expression softened slightly, and the tiny micro-change told him volumes. Nail on the head. That was part of the problem, though. “Me wanting to have a moment where I’m not being listened to isn’t me telling you to stop trying to keep me safe. The problem is when your best tool is a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail. There were other ways for you to get what you needed.”
He’d kept the tablet angled towards the window, away from Doc’s view, hand covering the glass where the reflection would show. Pay attention, Alace. This is me protecting you as best I can.
If she didn’t speak, Doc wouldn’t know for certain even her sex. If she didn’t name herself, the man wouldn’t have a clue who Owen’s partner was. As if she could read his mind, Alace shook her head side to side, once. Left, right, center.
“Darren Marchant, my name is Alace Sweets.” Owen cocked an eyebrow at her, and one corner of her lips twitched. She appeared to like knowing she had surprised him. “Turn the tablet, Owen, so he can see the boss.” He narrowed his eyes, and she released a tiny huff of air, nostrils flaring slightly. “The digital assistants are always listening. I’m just paying attention to what they’re hearing.”
Well, one mystery solved. He was surprised she’d given him that much. Alace had always been one to hold tight to her secrets. He twisted the tablet, steadying it on one knee so he could see both Alace and Doc.
Marchant lifted one hand laconically as he gave the digital version of Alace a nod. “Pleased.”
“Same. You do good works.”
Marchant frowned. “You mean work?”
“No. I say what I mean. Works. The efforts you expended on behalf of those children in Thailand was remarkable. The fact you haven’t given up hope of returning shows a dangerous stubborn streak, but the works you’ve done both in the country here and outside of it all speak to the kind of man you are.” Alace’s lips closed, touching but not pressing, her unaffected mask in place. Owen could detect no stress points in what he could see, no furrowing of the brows, no tightening of the skin near her eyes or ears; her entire face appeared as relaxed as if she were in the middle of a meditation session. “I’m still unconvinced you can stomach what Owen and I do, but your care for his kids is remarkable. I’m pleased he had you in his pocket to call on when he needed someone to assist.”
The pause in conversation next was uncomfortable, and Owen found himself wanting to fill the silence. A miniscule shake of her head held him quiet, waiting. Finally, eventually, Marchant took the bait, responding.
“I’d like to think I’m morally aligned, especially where children are concerned. They are what matters to me, always. I believe I find myself more flexible when it comes to what happens to the ones we’re fighting against.” Interesting how he’d already settled into the “we” territory. It had taken Owen a lot longer. He and Alace had worked together for months before the Worthington mission when things had come together for them to take the relationship farther and create the true partnership they now had. “I’d like to caution both of you, and Owen’s already heard this from me, but I don’t think I can take an active part in what he calls the missions. That’s not my skill set, and I think I’d be of much better use continuing to employ the talents I do have than trying to develop new ones. I’m an old dog, Alace Sweets. I don’t learn new tricks easily.”
“But you’re saying you can be taught?” Alace’s lips pressed together, preventing a moue from developing. Tossup if it was in annoyance or humor. “Regardless of your response, I tend to agree with you. In these things, it is always much simpler to stick to what we do well. In my case, that’s morphing from my previous highly active role into a directed focus on a second primary skill, investigation and organization. What happened to your sister?”
Owen blinked. Alace hadn’t changed inflection, hadn’t indicated she was going to ask a question, and when he glanced at Doc to find him frozen at the wheel, eyes unfocused and staring, he gawped.
“Darren?” Alace’s rendering of his name seemed to snap the man out of it, and Owen saw the muscles in his jaw flex and dance under the skin, noticing a tiny triangle of scruff missed in his most recent shave.
“No one knows.” Doc cleared his throat roughly, Adam’s apple bobbing deep in his throat with a hard swallow. “She disappeared years ago. I was barely out of school, had only recently started my first residency rotation.”
“You’re pretty sure it was the rodeo serial killer, though, am I right?” Owen split his attention between Doc’s evident distress and Alace’s impassive interest. “The authorities never nailed down a strict timeline, but you knew she was attending to watch a friend compete.”
“Where’s this going? And did you have to do it now? There’s a lot of miles yet between us and you, and if we’re going to be there anyway, can’t this wait?” Doc’s hand lifted from the steering wheel, and he dashed his fingers underneath one eye, annoyance clear on his expression. At least one of my partners is easy to read.
“I know a guy who knows a guy. I can ask around, see what I can find. Why did you leave the Ark-La-Tex area?”
Doc’s head jolted as if he’d taken a hit. Eyes squinting in apparent pain, he didn’t answer, that muscle jumping in his jaw again.
“You keep it up and I’ll use your middle name.” Owen stared at the camera, willing Alace to feel his irritation. “I’ll turn off every electronic in the car, and unless you actively bugged the car, you’ll be without even a tracking signal to know where we are. We could turn up in your driveway at any moment, and you wouldn’t know until I was hammering on your door.” A change in her expression gave it away, and he groaned. “Oh, Jesus. You did. You bugged the car.” He turned the tablet to face him, lowering his brow and glaring at her. “Jesus, Alace.”
“Not the way you’re thinking. Just something for a location with a mechanical signal. So I’ll know if you’re broken down or simply stopping for food. Turn it back around, please. I need to apologize.”
“Doc, you okay if she apologizes to you right now?” Without shifting the tablet, he looked towards the man in the driver seat, noting the white knuckles and tense line of his shoulders. She genuinely shook him with those questions. “Because if you aren’t, I’ll make her wait and do it in person.”
“Yeah. It’s fine.” His fingers curled around the wheel and tightened, then slipped back and relaxed. Curled around and tightened. “Whatever.”
“You get one chance.” Owen held up his index finger and pointed it at the camera. “Don’t screw this up.” Tablet turned, he stared at Alace, watching as she softened her posture, gentling her expression. A show, or real? Owen guessed it didn’t matter, as long as Doc believed.