Among the Shrouded by Amalie Jahn Page A

come looking for me,” she said as she walked through the door into the hallway.
    “That doesn’t sound good.   Mia!  Mia, stop!  Does your dad know about this?” Jack yelled after her as she continued toward the back of the building.
    She smiled at Jack’s perseverance.  He always knew just which of her buttons to push to get what he wanted.
    “The guy is Thomas Pritchett.  He’s the one from the lineup,” she called over her shoulder, throwing a casual wave in his direction as she turned the corner.
    She pushed open the back door of the station house and was blinded momentarily by the brightness of the day.  As her sight recovered, she recognized Thomas leaning nonchalantly against the wall of the building across the alley.  She smiled at him and quickly crossed to his side of the street.
    “ Have you been waiting long?” she asked.
    “Just a few minutes, ” he replied, his face lighting up as she approached.
    “Where are we headed?”
    “Well, I’ll leave it to you,” he said.  “We can just go across to Fayette Park, or if you don’t mind a little walk, we can head over to the Shot Tower.”
    “ It’s a beautiful day and I could use the exercise.  Let’s walk over to the Shot Tower.”
    They walked together, side by side; Thomas carrying a large bag which she assumed contained their lunch.  He also had a blanket draped over his arm.
    “Did you have a good morning?” he asked as they crossed the expressway.
    “Yeah.  Good.  Not too busy.  I had trouble concentrating though,” she confided.
    “Why’ s that?” he asked innocently.
    “I was anxious about a lunch date with a mysterious bad boy,” she replied, unable to keep the smile from her face.
    “Bad boy, huh?  I don’t know about that,” he laughed.  “But I have a feeling you could probably hold your own against anyone who tried to cross you.”
    “You think so?”
    “I think so,” he said as they reached the park entrance.  “Do you want to sit over there under the tree?”
    “ Perfect,” she said.
    They spread the blanket over the ground.  It was lumpy and more dirt and weeds than grass, but she couldn’t help but feeling happy about the company she was keeping, regardless of the setting.  He began to empty the contents of the brown paper bag he’d been carrying.  She had no idea about what type of meal awaited her, but she certainly hadn’t expected the feast he provided.  The last things he took from the bag were a bottle of wine and two glasses.
    “Oh Thomas, t his looks amazing!”  She picked up the bottle of wine.  “This is fabulous!  A merlot!  My favorite!  But I have some bad news.”
    “What?” he asked.
    “I am on duty, technically, so no wine for me,” she explained.
    “Oh!  You’re right!  I don’t know what I was thinking!  I’m so sorry.”
    “ It’s no big deal.  You can just save it for another time,” she said.  “But look at everything else.  I want some of everything.  Did you make all of this?”
    “Yes.  No.  Well… I helped,” he explained.  “I can’t lie to you.  Belinda, over at the bistro, she and I made this together this morning.  It was mostly her, but she let me use a knife and the oven, so I felt pretty important.”
    “Well, it looks amazing,” she said, grabbing a fork and taking a bite of the quiche.  “Oh, Thomas, it’s so good.”
    “Belinda is an amazing baker and chef,” he said.  “She’s tried to get me to work in the kitchen with her over the years, but it’s way too stressful back there for me.  Lots of rushing and bumping about.  No thanks.  I’ll stay in the dining room where I can enjoy the guests instead of the chaos that goes on behind the scenes.”
    “So, let me get this straight,” she said, taking another bite of quiche.  “You bus tables at Belinda’s Bistro in Towson?”
    “Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, seven until two.  Saturday and Sunday, nine until two.
    “ And you do lineups at the station