“The one where a ‘spirit’ accused everyone there of being a murderer?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead as if an aneurism was coming on. “Yeah, I heard about it.”
“Well? Are you looking into that at all?”
“Listen,” Mac said. He leaned forward as if he was going to tell me a secret, but something over my shoulder distracted him. I turned. Tish and Joe Stark were across the street, clearly arguing. Tish said something to Joe and turned to walk away. He grabbed her arm, and they struggled for a moment. I wouldn’t have wanted to be on the receiving end of the look she gave him before she stormed off toward the Reading Room. Joe smoothed his hair back, checked up and down the street, and walked in the opposite direction.
“Something’s up, Mac. You should go talk to him.”
“It’s none of our business. Whatever they were talking about, it’s over now. If I stopped every person in town that had an argument, I wouldn’t have time to do my job.”
“Maybe your job would be easier if you followed up on a few arguments.”
“Really.” His voice was flat. “This is how you’re going to play it?”
I picked up my cup, but it was empty. “You can’t overlook the séance just because it involves psychics.”
“I’m not overlooking it. I just don’t have anything to go on yet.” His mouth was a tight line. “However, if Sara did accuse someone who then killed her, that person is still out there. I don’t want you mucking around and getting yourself into trouble.”
“I can take care of myself.” I knew I was starting to sound like a rebellious teenager and hated that we had slipped into this old way of relating.
“I know that. But people are afraid of you. They think you know things. Just try to stay under the radar on this. I don’t want you getting hurt.” I was torn between feeling happy that he was concerned about me and annoyed that he was treating me like some sort of helpless damsel.
“Mac, I—” His steel blue gaze stopped me. He was capable of extreme stubbornness, and pushing him further would only lead to both of us stalking off into our respective corners. I started again. “Okay, I get it.”
“Good, that’s settled.” He smiled, but I knew he didn’t buy it. “I’m glad you wanted to meet me anyway.” He looked for his snack, but he had balled it all up into a napkin. “I hoped we could talk. I’m sorry about the way I acted the other day at the station.”
“No worries. Like you said, ‘ancient history.’” I echoed his slice through the air. I was still irritated that he wouldn’t listen and hated this ability of his to change the subject and pretend nothing was wrong.
“Don’t do this, Clyde. I’m trying to—”
“To what? To make yourself feel better for disappearing?” The words were out of my mouth before my brain had time to edit. I did not want to talk about this.
He tilted his head and took a breath. “I’m trying to say I’m sorry. And I didn’t disappear; you knew where to find me.” I wasn’t sure what he was talking about. The way I remembered it, he fled across the state because he couldn’t deal with my premonitions. Technically, I knew where he’d gone, but he hadn’t encouraged me to follow. I had joined the force in Ann Arbor to get away from the psychics and to forget Mac.
“And you made it pretty clear you didn’t want to be found.” I realized my voice had gotten loud when I saw that everyone in the café had stopped what they were doing to better listen in on our conversation.
Mac looked surprised, but then leaned forward and lowered his voice. “I’d like for us to be friends. Can we get together for dinner or something and talk?”
“You mean like a date?” I was purposely trying to annoy.
He sat back and narrowed his eyes, as if trying to decide his next move in a chess game. I had expected a blustery denial, or an irritated “forget it.”
“Sure. A date. Tonight? I’ll pick you up.”
I felt my eyebrows rise in reaction. I nodded, not knowing how else to respond. I feigned interest in my scone again, trying to regroup and figure out how this had happened. Mac stood and nodded at the crowd still watching us and walked out the door, hardly using his cane.
I grimaced at Josh and turned to look out the window at Mac’s retreating back.