Above the Law by Carsen Taite

waitress to double the order.
    “Now see, I would’ve pegged you for a salad girl,” Dale said.
    “Shows how much you know,” Lindsey replied. “Five miles every morning means I can eat what I want, and I almost never want a salad.”
    “I approve.”
    “Are you used to women who only eat salads?” Lindsey winced internally at the unartful question. She hadn’t asked Dale to lunch to dive into details about her deceased wife, but their playful banter seemed like a good time to broach more personal areas. However, now that she’d started down this road, she felt like a heel for acting like she knew less about Dale’s personal life than she did.
    “I’m not used to anything in particular.”
    Nice sidestep. Dale was going to be more difficult to crack than the average subject. “I have a tendency to accidentally date the salad-loving women. Doesn’t bode well for the long-term.” There, she’d tossed out the bait. Would Dale bite?
    “I was married for seven years. We both worked our asses off, and when it was time to eat, we ate whatever we were hungry for at the time.”
    Lindsey listened carefully for any undercurrent in Dale’s tone that signaled this avenue of conversation had hit a dead end. No, Dale sounded matter-of-fact, but she didn’t detect any traces of anger or annoyance. “You were married.”
    “My wife, Maria, is dead. It’s been a year.”
    Her voice was quiet and lifeless, and Lindsey wasn’t sure where to go from here. She had a thousand questions, but they were all based on knowledge she’d now pretended she didn’t already have. Where were you when your wife was shot down? What was the last thing you said to her and she to you? Have you been trying to find out who killed her? What progress have you made?
    She couldn’t ask any of these things. Not here, not now. In this moment, when Dale had displayed such vulnerability, the right thing to do was to be a person, not a reporter. The challenge was toeing the line between the two. She’d spent so much time digging for stories, she wasn’t entirely sure she could compartmentalize her truth-seeking queries from well-intended curiosity. For now, she settled on a simple, “I’m sorry.”
    “You didn’t do anything. It’s just…”
    Lindsey reached over and grasped Dale’s hand. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to, but I’m here if you do.”
    Dale met her eyes, and Lindsey struggled to read the emotions reflected there, but before she could get a fix on them, Dale smiled and said, “Thanks, but I’d prefer if we talk about a lighter subject. Something along the lines of the great salad versus burger debate, if you don’t mind.”
    “Fine by me.”
    Their food came quickly and they dove in. The rest of their conversation was light-hearted. Lindsey asked questions about Dallas in general. She’d flown through Dallas tons of times, but had never really spent any time in the city. Dale was describing her favorite burger joints when Lindsey got a text from Elaina that the crew was ready to go. She settled the check and they walked out of the restaurant.
    Dale pulled the list of afternoon appointments out of her pocket and pointed at the attached map. “I see you already mapped out the locations for today.”
    “We’re nothing if not efficient. Speaking of efficiency, Elaina managed to borrow a van from one of the local affiliates so we can all ride together.”
    “Oh, okay.” Dale didn’t know why, but the change in plans threw her a bit. She’d planned on driving. Maybe she’d expected more autonomy than being trapped in the van with the entire film crew would allow. She braced for meeting everyone else. “Where are they?”
    Lindsey pointed at one of the circular drives on the side of the hotel. “Over there.”
    Dale stiffened as Lindsey grabbed her arm and started walking in the direction she’d indicated, but Lindsey didn’t seem to notice. Forcing her stride into motion, Dale glanced