Spies and Prejudice by Talia Vance Page A

this person. It takes all my effort to keep from getting up and walking out of the room. I’m not ready for this.
    Drew squeezes my knee, holding me in place. “Thanks for talking to us. As I said on the phone, we just want to know what you remember about the accident.”
    Heather shakes her head. “Oh, it wasn’t an accident.”
    I stand up too fast, sending a fork clattering to the floor.
    “Berry.” Drew puts a hand on my arm.
    I pull my arm away and walk as fast as I can out of the restaurant. I thought I wanted the truth. I thought I needed to hear it.
    The truth is I need the lies more.
    I hear footsteps behind me, but I don’t look back. I keep going until I’m across the parking lot. I rest my hands on the hood of my car and concentrate on slowing down my breathing. In. Out. In. Out. In.
    “You okay?” The low thrum of Tanner’s voice swirls around in my chest with the night air.
    I turn around to face him. “Stop following me.”
    “You were upset. Did Drew do something?”
    “Don’t make this about Drew.”
    Tanner puts his hands in his pockets. “Sorry. I don’t mean—are you okay?”
    “No.” My whole body trembles. It starts as a tremor, but gathers steam quickly. I hug myself to make it stop, but my body shakes of its own volition.
    Tanner steps forward and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Do you want to talk about it?”
    “No.”
    His arms come around me and I do nothing to stop it. I bury my face in his shoulder, shaking. He smells like cinnamon and fabric softener and for some reason this makes him seem more human.
    He lowers his head so his mouth brushes my hair. “Better?”
    I don’t want to answer. I just want to stay here and pretend that none of this is happening. Eventually, I stop shaking, but I don’t move away. For now, I’m safe. It’s classic Stockholm Syndrome, finding comfort in the arms of the person who torments me.
    “Can I ask you something?” Tanner’s mouth is next to my ear. His breath sends a hot blast down my neck.
    I nod into his shirt.
    “Why do you hate me so much?”
    I want to say that it’s because he’s arrogant and has done nothing but insult me and my friends. I want to say something that will make him leave me alone for good. Instead I say, “I don’t hate you.” It might even be true.
    His lips move against my hair. “I don’t hate you either.”
    Tanner’s arms fall and I’m standing on my own. I’m not shaking anymore, but I miss the warmth of him. I miss the smell of cinnamon and Tanner.
    “Who was that woman?”
    “She saw my mother die.” It sounds even worse when I say it out loud.
    “What?” Tanner’s face gives nothing away. I can’t tell if he’s shocked or just curious.
    “It’s kind of sick, right? Interviewing the woman who watched your mom die? I thought I could do it, but as it turns out, I guess I can’t.”
    “Why was Drew there?”
    I shrug. “He’s helping me.”
    “Helping you?”
    “Do you even know how to talk to people without sounding like you’re cross-examining them? This is really none of your business.”
    “So you keep saying.”
    “Maybe I wouldn’t have to keep saying it if you’d leave me alone.”
    Tanner steps closer. There’s still a few inches between us, but his body heat hovers in the air between us. It’s somehow more potent than when he was holding me. “Is that what you want?”
    He waits for an answer that never comes. I can’t bring myself to say the words that will send him away any more than I can utter the words that might bring him closer. I clutch the side of my car.
    We stay like that as the seconds stretch into a minute. Tanner lifts his hand, reaching for me, then drops it to his side. “Just be careful, okay?”
    “Okay,” I say, but Tanner has already turned his back on me. He walks into the restaurant without a glance in my direction.
    It’s a half an hour before the red-haired woman walks out of the restaurant and climbs into a beat-up Corolla. Drew