Bennett paused.
“Why?”
“Because that’s not why he was wrong.”
Another pause.
Then Bennett understood.
“If you had been anybody else, he still should have stopped.”
“Yes.”
“I’ll make sure the reporting reflects that.”
“Thank you.”
“Major.”
“Yes?”
“I know you probably don’t want to hear this.”
Jessica sighed.
“Then I probably don’t.”
Bennett chuckled once.
“Still saying it.”
“Go ahead.”
“You handled yourself well.”
Jessica looked at her mother through the diner window.
Patricia had found pie.
She was pointing enthusiastically at a display case.
Jessica smiled.
“I’ve had practice.”
Bennett went quiet.
“Yes,” he said.
“I imagine you have.”
The call ended.
Jessica entered the diner.
Patricia looked at her.
“Well?”
“He’s been removed from duty pending investigation.”
Her mother nodded.
“Good.”
Jessica slid into the booth.
“You don’t sound conflicted.”
“I’m your mother.”
“Fair.”
Patricia pushed a menu toward her.
“They have peach pie.”
“This is North Carolina. Of course they have peach pie.”
“They also have pecan.”
Jessica opened the menu.
“You’re asking me to make impossible decisions after a difficult morning.”
Patricia smiled.
“Now you understand real pressure.”
Jessica laughed.
A waitress approached.
“Coffee?”
Jessica looked at Patricia.
Patricia looked at Jessica.
Both started laughing harder.
The waitress blinked.
“Did I miss something?”
Jessica covered her mouth.
“No, ma’am.”
Patricia wiped her eyes.
“Long story.”
The waitress shrugged.
“Coffee fixes most long stories.”
Jessica looked down.
Whiskey hidden beneath coffee flashed through her memory.
Then Daniel Ruiz’s terrible instant coffee.
Then Keene joking about bait shops.
Pain and humor occupied the same space.
That was life more often than people admitted.
“Tea,” Jessica said.
The waitress nodded.
“Sweet or unsweet?”
“Unsweet.”
Patricia gasped dramatically.
“I raised you better.”
Jessica smiled.
The tension inside her finally loosened.
Not completely.
It never did.
They ate pie.
They talked about ordinary things.
Patricia complained about a neighbor who left trash cans out for three days.
Jessica complained about airport security lines.
Neither mentioned Crawford for nearly twenty minutes.
That silence felt different.
Healthy.
Chosen.
Eventually Patricia looked across the table.
“Can I ask one thing?”
Jessica put down her fork.
“One.”
“Major?”
Jessica smiled.
“Yes.”
Patricia shook her head.
“I’m never getting used to that.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m still your daughter.”
Her mother’s expression softened.
“Always.”
Jessica looked toward the diner window.
A small American flag fluttered above the parking lot.
