Page 9 of Death is Familiar

“Did you need me to describe it in further detail?”

“Why are you making it difficult for me to be nice?”

Why was I making it difficult? I know I wanted to lead him away from the truth, what I was afraid of, but why was I handling it this way?

“Why did you lie to Jack about me answering the door?”

“Because you’re my friend! And I’m here, asking you the questions I wished people asked me!”

Oh.

The truth was out in the open, and we just stared at each other. Todd’s chest rising and falling like he had shoved a boulder off his chest.

Todd’s concern was rooted in the work he had done in the past. How he had been affected by being undercover. The scars he bore both inside and out. He wasn’t onto my secret. He just wanted to make sure that I had support. Someone to talk to. Todd was trying to be the person he wished he had when he was in my situation. And that tugged at my heart strings.

Todd crumpled onto the couch next to my feet.

“Did you want to talk about it?” I curled my legs beneath me and moved so that I was seated next to him.

“I…” Todd sighed. The tension dropped from his shoulders. “It’s not about me. And I’m not trying to pry your secrets from you. Or report your activities to the FBI. I’m just…” his hands moved searching for the words, “trying.”

He looked defeated.

I put my head on his shoulder, and we sat in silence for a moment. Just two friends who had both seen their fair share of troubles, knowing that there were more to come. Two friends who had built up so many walls, it was hard to forget who we were without them.

“I’ve been on edge since we got back,” I admitted. “And I took it out on you. I’m sorry.”

“I’m a big boy. I can take it.”

I punched him playfully in the arm, his body rumbling beneath me as he chuckled. We were over the hurdle. I sat up straight, the warmth of Todd’s shoulder clinging to my cheek. “You have anywhere to be today?”

“No, why?” The fact that he was wearing dress clothes told me otherwise.

“I think that we, totally regular and not messed up people, need to remind ourselves that we are human. And to do that we need to watch a lot of TV and eat a ton of junk food.”

“Regular humans get out of their apartments at some point,” Todd teased, finally taking a bite of his licorice.

“I will. Tomorrow.” I was overdue for a visit with Botan anyway. Todd telling me to get out was a good excuse to do just that. “Right now, I’m ordering us pizza. But you should know, anchovies are forbidden in this household.” Didn’t need to tempt fate with sickening, scaly, little fish.

“That’s fine,” Todd smiled. His real unburdened, charming, smile. “I only order anchovies to annoy Jack.”

3

“Ugh.” Botan blinked away the sweat as we walked along the National Mall. For someone who worked in hot and humid environments, he wasn’t handling the heat well.

“You’re thinking of greenhouses.” Botan wiped his brow. “I’m a florist. Fresh cut flowers are refrigerated. I work in a fridge. Now, to what do I owe the pleasure of your unexpected visit?”

Botan downed the rest of the ice coffee I got him while I waited to make contact. With the FBI tracking my every move, I had to be covert when approaching the few Leslie’s Pies contacts I had left. Those who hadn’t blacklisted me. I made sure to catch Botan’s attention as I passed before taking up residence at a café across the street from his flower shop.

“I need you to look into someone for me.” I pulled out my phone and the picture of Mads—the Muffin Man—and held it out to Botan. I’d tucked the Muffin Man’s photo away in the same hidden folder where I’d stored his mirror messages. I knew it was a risk, keeping evidence of Mads’ visit on my phone, but I didn’t have very many options, and neither Jack nor Todd had said anything about the other photos. “He look familiar?”

Botan clicked his tongue. Even if he knew who the Muffin Man was, and even though we were friends, he wouldn’t give the information for free. He’d want something in return.

“I’d need to check.” Botan pulled out his phone and took a snap of my picture of the Muffin Man. I couldn’t send him the photo directly anyway. “Who’s he to you?”

Botan was searching for how much the information was worth to me. I couldn’t tell him what Mads meant, not until he’d named his price. “If it helps, he said his name was Mads. He could have been lying. Didn’t give me a last name. Said he worked for Leslie’s Pies. Do you think you can figure out who he is?”

Botan fanned his face. “I can do it. But you’ll need to give me some decent intel. Something useable.”